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rhaenyratargcryen · 4 months ago

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you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian.

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch.

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump.

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him.

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government.

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris.

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head.

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours.

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze.

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head.

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more.

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head.

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head.

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you.

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once.

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans.

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated.

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here.

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

#twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #glen powell #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #as a former tyler dater this was soooo triggering for me to write #JFNLKQJBNF

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procrastinationaccount · 3 months ago

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Top 10 griddlehark scenes that could have resulted in kisses, ranked by how hot it would have been if it had happened

Disclaimer: I am in no way shape or form saying that this would have made the scenes better, merely mashing them together like dolls.

10. When the gang are headed to "Dulcinea"'s sickroom on Harrow's suggestion and Gideon says she could have kissed her. Girl do it!

9. Post-avulsion, once they're back in their room - preferably, right after "Don't price your life so cheaply, Griddle." Harrow is so fucking scared and so fucking in love, and while it is adorable that she turned to anger at the trials putting them in this position she also could have put that energy into a certain cavalier! Held back by just how pained and out-of-it Gideon was. You know in the morning she would be aggressively telling herself it was a dream.

8. Speaking of things Gideon told herself were dreams, that one time Harrow woke her up from a nightmare! Underrated scene imo. She's looking at you so so softly and understandingly despite the cynicism.

7. During the battle with Cyth, after Harrow saves her flying through the air and they're both slumped on a pile of bones. Gideon just nearly died because she was too busy admiring her perpetual bone, she's so proud of her it makes everything ache, and Harrow's openly performing for her now. No time for talking or thinking, pure adrenaline, just make your move before she passes out!

6. After passing the Winnowing challenge. They are both probably the most exhilarated and turned-on they've ever been. Harrow entered her body and it was a positive interaction. It might have fully struck at least one of them dead if it had happened.

5. During the stair fight, contingent on Harrow finishing the "how dare you mock my-" sentence. Gideon called her out on jealousy, which is major fucking progress for them as far as identifying feelings. They're drained and pissed off, and it's really setting in for Harrow how willing Gideon would be to give herself away to her. Show her that you care!

4. Pre-avulsion. See lovely role-swapped example by @sinshiney here!

3. Right after Gideon tucked away that shadow-colored lock of hair. We know it, we love it, Harrow I understand but at the same time please don't talk about the Body right now. You have no idea what this will do to the next year and a half+ of your relationship.

2. First Flower Of My House. Her trembling hand is on your cheek. A beautiful little smile is on her face. She just made the most beautiful declaration of love you've ever heard in your life. You're planning on dying anyway and have nothing left to lose. Shalalalalala-my-oh-my...

Honorable mentions:

After the discovery of Dulcie's ashes, once Gideon runs to confirm that Harrow wasn't the victim in a panic. It always kills me that she calls what she would've said the other day about finding Harrow dead a "youthful" dream, but at least you're done pretending now. Wake her up and give her an update!

The hug scene. Omitted because it's perfect the way it is.

The post-pool lean-in. Omitted because Gideon's mind was already made up when she started it. Meanest thing she's ever done.

While Gideon was backed up against that pillar, right after Harrow says, "And at the end of the night, the locked tomb is me." Would it have made any sense with the trajectory of their characters? No. Would it have been hot? It would have been hot as fuck, thank you for asking.

#I'm slightly sick but tbh I'm not delirious this is just how I think #This post is my reward for getting most of my homework done today #the locked tomb #griddlehark #Tlt #Gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon the ninth spoilers #gtn spoilers

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freyaphoria · 2 months ago

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"Why are you wearing my dress?" You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing your boyfriend as he admired himself in the mirror, adjusting 'your dress' on his slender frame. Seonghwa had always been this way; his fascination with your dresses and cute skirts was undeniable. He would often watch you intently as you applied your makeup, occasionally piping up with an endearing, "Will you do my makeup too?" These moments were utterly charming, reminiscent of a little girl watching her mother with wide-eyed wonder, eager to emulate her every move. Far from finding it irritating or tiresome, you cherished these interactions. In fact, you took great pleasure in helping him explore this side of himself, always ready to assist with his makeup or outfit choices. "Why? Doesn't it look good?" Seonghwa's voice carried a hint of anxiety as his eyes darted between you and his reflection. The brown material of the dress hugged his body in a way that seemed almost magical, accentuating his figure far more flatteringly than it ever had on you. It was as if the dress had been crafted specifically for him, every seam and fold perfectly placed. Unable to resist, you stepped towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. The warmth of his body against yours sent a subtle shiver down your spine as you whispered, "No, my star, you look like the brightest star in the sky like this.” Your hands began a gentle exploration, tracing the contours of his slim waist, marveling at how the fabric draped so elegantly over his form. Seonghwa's chest rose with a deep breath as he grasped your arms, gently maneuvering you to stand before him. His eyes, usually so confident, now held a glimmer of uncertainty. "I don't know, do you think this is too much?" The hesitation in his voice was palpable, a reminder that despite his love for wearing dresses, there was still a fragile vulnerability beneath the surface. He craved your reassurance, your validation. With a playful smirk, you replied, "Yes, it's too much, everyone who sees you will be drooling. They might forget you're mine." Your warm palm found its way to his smooth cheek, and you could feel the tension melting away from his body, his shoulders visibly relaxing under your touch. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he murmured, "Don't worry, I'm already yours, always and completely." Your hands glided from his cheeks to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his meticulously styled hair. With the gentlest of tugs, you drew his face closer to yours, your breath mingling as you whispered, "Then we should mark this perfect vision as mine, don't you think?" Your lips met his in a tender kiss, then trailed down to the exposed skin of his chest. The imprint of your lipstick blossomed on his skin like a vibrant flower, a beautiful testament to your connection. Pulling back to admire your handiwork, you couldn't help but smile. "There," you said, your voice filled with affection and a hint of possessiveness, "now you're even more breathtaking, my star." Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him in the dress, your lipstick mark a stark contrast against his skin. Then, with a quick glance at your own reflection to ensure you were equally presentable, you turned towards the door. "Come on, we'd better get going. We wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting, especially when you look this stunning."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(I wrote this in 3 minutes, sorry if there are any mistakes)

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

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blacktabbygames · 5 months ago

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Hello! I absolutely love Slay The Princess! I was wondering, were there any major inspirations that helped you create this game that you wouldn’t mind sharing? I’m always fascinated by the art that inspires the art I love so I’d be very curious and happy to hear what vibes helped you all piece together this wonderful game!

It's always tough to pin down inspirations. I think there's kind of three types: 1. Hard inspirations — things that you know are sources of inspiration at the start of a project. Or things that become known sources of inspiration partway through a project. These are sometimes, but not always technical.

2. Soft inspirations — these are more vibes based. Kind of like "what's going through my head on loop while working on a specific chapter." Almost never technical, and for me, this tends to be music more than anything else. (But maybe it's music *from* something specifically)

3. Loose inspirations — these are more along the lines of formative pieces of media. Stuff that seeps into your soul and directs your development as an artist or person, but not in a way where you can specifically tell what its impact is. Sometimes overlaps with #2 Anyways, some examples for each. Hard Inspirations:

• Disco Elysium — IMO hands down the best piece of interactive media ever made, and probably one of the most obvious influences on Slay the Princess. The concept of using internal voices to represent the player's thoughts helped us get around one of the biggest writing challenges in Slay the Princess — if the Princess changes based on your perspective, how do we codify what the player's thinking? The voices were a solution to interpret those choices in sensible ways and inform our players of how the game was reading their choices. Much better than breaking immersion and outright asking players what they tought. • Soma — we didn't play Soma until we were about half of the way through our work on Slay the Princess, but it was one of those games that felt so thematically on-point. I still think about this game most weeks. • The Stanley Parable — I like when narrators get frustrated at players for doing silly things. It helps when your narrator is British, too.

• Madoka — it's like 12 episodes long. Just watch it.

• Evangelion — Similar bucket to Soma. Didn't watch it until we were most of the way done, but boy does it have some similar vibes. Soft Inspirations/Music I've Kept On Loop While Working On the Game I won't tell you what music was looped for what routes. • Ceremonials (Florence + the Machine) — one of my all time favorite artists, and just a phenomenal album.

• Presumably Dead Arm (Sidney Gish) — super underrated. No Dogs Allowed is a great album.

• Haunted (Poe) — another banger album.

• Black Holes and Revelations (Muse)

I'll leave that third bucket unanswered lest this post become 50 pages long.

#slay the princess #florence and the machine #soma #disco elysium #madoka magika #idk i've done too many tags #i return to my labors

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whytheylosttheirminds · 4 months ago

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 6)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

One Year Earlier…

The car door opened just a crack, an attempt to keep the torrential rain from getting on the nice leather interior. Your mother struggled to enter the front seat without bringing the elements with her.

“Just get in,” Ward encouraged. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to get an invoice for detailing,” she explained.

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

She gave him a knowing look, now fully inside the car and safe from the storm.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” your mother said.

The windshield wipers squeaked against the glass as they swished rapidly. Your mother folded her hands in her lap as she took in the luxurious vehicle with judgment. Ward picked up on her distaste, but simply chuckled and shook his head. He had given up any attempt on getting her to like him back when they were in high school together. She had always thought him a showman, putting on a display she wasn’t interested in watching. He may have the rest of the island fooled, but she saw straight through him.

She flinched as he reached across her, calming when she realized he was only opening the glovebox. He pulled out a stack of envelopes held together with a thick rubber band. He dropped them in her lap unceremoniously, right on top of her folded hands. She didn’t pick the stack up right away, looking down at the one on top with a deep sigh.

“How many?” She asked.

“Seventeen,” he placed his hands on the wheel as if he was bracing himself. “They’re still coming once a week, like clockwork.”

“Have you read them?” She mumbled, still staring down, her eyes running over the handwriting, a prominent frown on her face as she studied the familiar little curve at the top of each letter “a”.

Ward’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, as they arrived at the conversation he was waiting for. “No, I haven’t, and neither should you. No good would come of that.”

Faint tears began to form at the crinkled edges of her eyes. The moment she felt them she pushed them away, sitting up straight and shoving the stack of letters into her purse.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, clutching her purse firmly to her lap.

Ward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure how many more times he could have this conversation before losing his cool completely.

“We did what we had to,” he reminded her. “Look, I don’t like it either. But it was what’s best for both of them. And it’s too late now. We need to move forward. They will, too…eventually. Trust me.”

She looked him square in the face as she grabbed the door handle, preparing herself for the mad dash back to her own car across the vacant parking lot.

“I will never trust you, Ward,” she swore.

With that, she opened the door. She had one leg out, ready to hop down from the truck bed, when he grabbed her arm aggressively, making her gasp.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“I already have.”

Now…

Rafe looked up at you nervously, his eyes running up and down your face, looking for any reaction. He was on one knee in front of you, holding up the promise ring you were sure you’d never see again. The sight was so surreal you didn’t know how to react.

You were slowly coming back to earth after the heavenly feeling of being intimate with Rafe again. All of the emotion that had clouded your mind was clearing and the events of the past few days came back into view. Rafe spitting on the waiter he’d thrown in the dirt. The disgust on his face when you’d first said his name on the beach at the island club. The way he had pushed himself off of you just a few hours ago before sending you running out the door crying. The man who was kneeling in front of you right now was not the boy who had first presented you with this ring over two years ago.

But still, he had the same desperate vulnerability in his eyes now as he’d had then. That day you had thought surely the next time he presented you with a ring, it would have a diamond on it and he’d be asking you to marry him.

The image of you in a white dress, Rafe waiting for you expectantly at the end of the aisle, flashed across your mind. Suddenly, it wasn’t you in the white dress you saw, but your mother. Your eyes widened and you snapped back to the moment, realizing that your mom’s rehearsal dinner was tonight and you had told her you would make it. She said she didn’t want you to, but she always said things she didn’t mean, and this might be your last chance to fix things with her.

“What time is it?” You blurted out.

Rafe blinked back at you in surprise. He had prepared for either a rejection or an embrace, not to give you the time.

“I…uh, what?”

“I left my phone at your house,” you explained. “Do you know what time it is?”

Rafe reached into his pocket with the hand that wasn’t holding the ring and checked his phone.

“It’s four,” he informed you.

“Shit,” you walked around him and headed towards the door of the lifeguard tower. “I have to go!”

Rafe stood, shoving the ring back in his pocket. “What? Why?”

He followed you out the door of the small office. Once you were on the porch of the tower, you looked around quickly for any sign of the beach patrol you had been dodging, but the coast was clear. You turned back to him, blushing slightly at the sight of him hurrying to buckle his belt.

“It’s my mom’s rehearsal dinner,” you told him. “I need to get ready, I don’t even have anything to wear. Shit!”

You descended the steps of the tower quickly, side stepping the rotted spots in the wood. Rafe followed you down, catching up with you at the bottom and rounding you so he was blocking your path to the beach’s exit.

“You’re still going?” He asked, his tone a swirl of anger and hurt.

You blinked back at him, feeling like the answer was obvious.

“Yes? It’s my mom, Rafe,” you said defensively.

“Didn’t she kick you out?” He questioned.

“Kind of. I mean not technically…it’s complicated, Rafe. You know how she is,” you struggled to explain.

Rafe rolled his eyes slightly before looking over your shoulder, nodding.

“Fine,” he said. “C’mon, you can come get ready at my place. You can borrow something from Sarah.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved that his frustration hadn’t escalated any further.

You rode back to Tannyhill on the back of his bike, wearing his helmet, relieved that your identity was shielded from the nosy looks from his neighbors as you passed. You wondered how many girls they’d seen Rafe bring back to the house on his bike over the last two years. Your stomach twisted at the thought and you subconsciously squeezed him tighter, your arms around his abdomen.

You followed Rafe into the house wordlessly, nervously picking at the skin around your fingernails, wondering what had suddenly made him go so quiet. Once inside the door, Rafe dropped his keys on the table in the foyer and walked toward the kitchen. You stood there for a moment, taking in the house. You ran your hand along the back of the couch, Rose had gotten a new one, and you hated that anything had changed, even something so small.

After a few minutes, when Rafe still hadn’t come back from the kitchen, you took it upon yourself to walk up to Sarah’s room, searching through her expansive closet for something to wear. You settled on a short black dress with spaghetti straps. It’s certainly not something your mother would have picked for you to wear, but showing up underdressed was better than not showing up at all, right?

Rafe skulked in the kitchen for a while, slowly twirling the glass of bourbon he’d poured himself, but not taking a sip. He couldn’t believe you were still going to your mother’s rehearsal dinner. He had been naive, thinking that your mother kicking you out and the moment you’d shared in the lifeguard tower had finally sealed your return to him. Maybe you would never fully be his, maybe he would spend forever fighting to be first in your life. He hadn’t fought enough before, he should’ve gone after you, should’ve tracked you down. He threw back the bourbon in the glass and slammed it onto the counter with a sense of purpose.

As you leaned closer to the mirror to apply some mascara you found in Sarah’s bathroom, Rafe appeared in the reflection behind you. He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms, watching you. Once you had finished applying the makeup, you stood and met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. You offered him a small smile, but his face remained still as solemn eyes held your gaze. Your smile faded when you felt the intensity of his look. You stood there for what felt like hours, just looking at each other. A look full of history, of unspoken words. The more you looked at him, the quieter the noise in your head became. All of the questions, the worry, the mystery faded and all that was left was him.

After a while, Rafe dropped his crossed arms and stood up straight, now folding his hands behind his back, emphasizing his firm chest under his t-shirt. He began walking toward you slowly, still not dropping his eyes from yours in the mirror. Goosebumps rose on your skin and your heart rate spiked, but you didn’t dare look away.

Once behind you, his chest less than an inch from your back, he dipped his head low and placed the softest kiss on your shoulder. The gesture was so tender, watery tears pricked the corner of your eyes. The brush of your soft skin against his lips undid him, and now it was him who was sniffing you, nose nuzzled into your temple, inhaling the scent he had craved so desperately for years. The glory of you invading his senses undid him and he had to place his hands on your waist to steady himself.

You leaned back into him as one of his arms snaked around you, his hand flattening against your stomach. He began peppering kisses up and down your neck, and you let your head drop back to lean into him. His other hand slowly crept up your torso until it rested over one of your breasts. It wasn’t crass or harsh, nothing like the way he fondled you on the couch just this morning. His touch was revervent, the way you hold something you lost and thought you would never find.

You watched the embrace in the mirror and he continued dragging his lips over your skin. He was wrapped around you like a snake, completely enfolding you. Your eyes lingered on his arms, enchanted by the sight of his large, veiny hands on your body. Those hands that you knew so well, even after all this time, you could pick them out of any lineup. You never managed to unlearn him. You’d know him forever, even if you never saw him again. Your heart swelled with emotion at the thought.

The sensation of Rafe nipping at your earlobe pulled you from your thoughts and your knees went weak. You reached an arm up behind you and ran your hand over his shaved head, nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“Thought you hated my hair,” he chuckled into your ear.

“It’s just different,” you breathed as he squeezed you under his hands just slightly. “You’re different.”

At this, he looked up and met your eyes in the mirror, his chin rested on your shoulder. He looked bashful.

“Bad different?” He asked, an edge of vulnerability in his voice.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you admitted honestly.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind?” He teased, easing some of the intensity of the moment.

You smiled back at him in the mirror and he ate it up, heart soaring at his ability to change your mood with just his words. Maybe if he kept talking he could convince you to stay, to ditch your mom’s rehearsal dinner and never leave his side again.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, challenging him with your eyes, hoping he would pick up on the hint that you want him to take control of the moment.

“Would this help?” He grips your breast tighter, making you gasp at the sweet pressure,

“Mhm, I want more,” you closed your eyes and laid your head back full on his shoulder, surrendering to him.

He pulled the thin strap of your dress between his teeth, dragging it off slowly to reveal more of you. Once the strap has fallen fully down your arm, he licks a strip up your neck. When his warm tongue filled the shell of your ear, you sighed blissfully. When he pulled his mouth away and blew gentle air against the moisture he had just left, you fully swooned, swaying into him.

He rocked with you and started rubbing his hand over your stomach, your hips, the curve of your ass.

“You want me to keep touching you like this?” He asked, genuine interest in your answer.

“Yes, I love it, Rafe,” you said. “I need you.”

“Tell me where you need me, baby,” he groaned into your ear, your eyes now squeezed shut so you could take in the perfect sound of his voice.

“Everywhere,” you were losing your ability to stay engaged in the banter, the feeling of his hands too electrifying.

Rafe notices how you’re fading, and decides not to ask any more questions. The hand on your ass moved further down, to the hem of your dress. He ran the pads of his fingers over the soft, plush skin of your upper thigh. He lifted the hem up until he found the edge of your panties, hooking his thumb over the waistband and leaving it there for a moment. He kissed your jaw sloppily and started dipping the rest of his fingers under the thin fabric one at a time.

You braced yourself on the edge of the sink with one hand, while the other slid down his forearm until you found his hand, guiding it to feel the wetness now dripping between your thighs.

The realization of how wet he made you mixed with the feeling of your silky cunt hit him like a truck. He groaned and pushed the hardness in his pants against your ass. Your other hand shot to the sink edge for stability as his hand took over, his fingers beginning to dance over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moaned.

“This what you want?” He asked, his voice huskier than it had been a minute ago, as the feeling of your soft curves pushing against his erection sent shock waves through his body.

“Baby…” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“Missed hearing you call me that,” he confessed.

You opened your eyes to meet his, but saw that his were now clenched shut as he focused on making you feel good. In the reflection, you caught the clock on the wall, your mom’s rehearsal dinner was beginning soon.

“Rafe,” you tried to pull his attention.

“Y/n,” he moaned, misunderstanding your tone.

“No, Rafe,” you tapped his arm to get him to open his eyes. “I have to go, I’ll be late.”

Rafe shook his head. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He said it a bit harshly, his fear manifesting itself into anger as it so often did.

“But-” you started to protest, but were cut off when he sped up the movement of his fingers, pinching slightly and rolling your sensitive clit between his fingers. “Fuck!” You nearly yelled as your body jolted forward.

“That’s it, just let me finish what I started,” Rafe said, his thumb taking over circles on your clit while his first finger reached down to dip into you.

You tried to talk, tried to tell him how good it felt, but no words came from your open mouth. Your knuckles were white from your tight grip on the sink. You pushed back into Rafe, wanting to share the pleasure you were feeling with him, but he pulled his hips away from you.

“Nah, not right now,” he said. “I’m on the clock here, baby, I gotta focus.”

He plunged a second finger into you and curled them upward, finally hitting your favorite spot that he knew so well. He had spent so long memorizing how to unravel you, he couldn’t forget if he tried.

Soon enough, he succeeded, and you unraveled completely. Rafe watched with unblinking eyes as your orgasm had you bent over the sink, crying out his name. He pulled you toward him, holding you up, as he whispered reassurances into your ear.

“Rafe, I-“ you cried.

“I got you, baby,” he cooed. “I always got you.”

Finally, your breathing steadied and you came back to earth. You turned in his arms and his hands rested on your lower back. Stretching up on your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a grateful kiss to his lips.

“You still my girl?” He asked earnestly.

“Always.”

You said it without really thinking, and immediately wondered if you shouldn’t have. Rafe clearly couldn’t see the doubt on your face as his own was filled with relief and affection.

Just as he leaned forward to kiss you back, his phone dinged in his pocket. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption and you giggled, delighted that he only wanted to be with you right now. He reluctantly checked the text.

“Your car is ready,” he explained.

“Oh, good!” you had honestly forgotten that your mom’s car was even gone, the morning feeling like a lifetime ago.

“I’ll go get it for you,” he offered. “You might, uh, wanna redo your makeup.”

You turned quickly to look at your reflection in the mirror, the mascara you had just applied was smeared from the sweat Rafe had caused you to break.

“Oh my God,” you laughed. “I look like a racoon!”

“A cute one, though,” he said, planting a quick kiss to your cheek before exiting the room.

You blushed at the simplicity of the moment, and the sweetness of the comment. For a moment, you let your mind drift into some delusional future where this is your home, and you are his girl, and none of the past two years happened.

But they did happen. Your bubble burst and you were suddenly back in the real world. This isn’t your house, and there were so many obstacles in the path to the future you were still inexplicably clinging to. The biggest of them being that you weren’t sure you actually knew the man you just promised yourself to. The man who yells and fights and gets arrested. The man who managed to break your heart and stitch it back together in the span of a few hours.

The man who never answered any of your letters.

It started so innocently, you wandered down the spiral stairs to the floor Rafe’s room was on. You walked around his room with your arms crossed, taking in the familiarity of it. You opened his top dresser drawer, immediately closing it again, feeling strange about poking around. But you had to know.

You began rifling, opening every drawer and digging through it, not even bothering to set them back to the way they were when you were done. You told yourself you were just looking for the letters, curious if he had read them or kept them sealed, or even ripped them to shreds. But if you were being honest, this wasn’t just about the letters. Rafe still hadn’t given you the answers you were looking for, about what happened to his dad or how he ended up getting arrested. You were too scared to bring it up again, the whiplash of his mood swings today making you dizzy. You figured if you were going to get answers, you’d have to dig for them yourself.

You made it through Rafe’s room without finding anything significant. He had a few joints rolled up in his desk drawer, but there was nothing that satisfied your craving for understanding.

You repeated your desperate actions in his bathroom, then Ward and Rose’s room, where it appeared Rafe had been sleeping, a mystery you’d solve another time. You made your way to Ward’s office, the room you were never allowed in when you were kids. You dug through the desk drawers, the filing cabinets, the old antique hutch - nothing. Then you remembered a time in high school when you and Rafe had snuck in here, needing to find some spare cash for concert tickets you had begged him for. Rafe had snuck into his dad’s safe, behind the painting on the wall.

You slowly walked over to the painting, wondering if this was officially going too small. You didn’t remember the passcode to the safe, so maybe it was pointless, but something in you told you to try. You slowly pulled the painting from the wall, eyes widening at what you discovered behind it.

On one side, a gun. On the other, a pile of gold, diamonds, precious stones - a real life treasure chest. Apart, they could have many meanings. But next to each other, tucked away in a manner that was clearly not meant to be discovered, they told a story. You did not know how that story began, but you had the sinking feeling it hadn’t ended yet, that it was still unfolding, and that the moment you opened this door you had unwittingly become a character in it.

Without really thinking, you reached out and picked up the gun. You were surprised at how cold it was against your skin. Your eyes widened when you realized how strange it was that you had even touched it, and you subconsciously held it further away from you, as if it was a cursed artifact. Something about the weight of it in your hands sent a chill down your spine. You were overcome with a sense of darkness, as though something sinister had entered the room. But when you lifted your gaze from the foreign sight of a gun in your hand, you found that the only thing that had entered the room was Rafe.

(Chapter 7)

a/n: she's aliiiive!!! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, life is crazy. I missed these two so much. If you're still here THANK YOU for sticking with me!!! I know this chapter is shorter than the others, but I had to get something posted and this is what I have. The rest of the story lives in my brain, alive and well and will be posted at some point I promise!! I think I have 3 or 4 chapters until I've told the full story.

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writingbyshiloh · 1 year ago

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Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan.

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan.

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying.

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress.

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words.

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them.

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend.

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her.

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all.

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table.

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way.

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window.

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too.

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go.

You stand and straighten out your dress.

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself.

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up.

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is.

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting.

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it.

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.”

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going.

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest.

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking.

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near.

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again.

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible.

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit.

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan.

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall.

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

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sukirichi · 6 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 010 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. infidelity. slight angst. reader is beginning to question everything she knew. reader almost drowns. toxic characters. suggestive. toxic relationships. unedited. SHIRTLESS KIYOOMI SHIRTLESS KIYOOMI

notes. the end of kiyoomi arc... mayhaps? also highly recommend listening to the linked song for this chapter and the fanmade playlist linked in the masterlist <3

wc. 8k

series masterlist

[ TEN ] you’ll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night, burning it down. someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around

You underestimated Kiyoomi’s enthusiasm.

Blame it on the fact you would’ve never figured the word ‘enthusiasm’ and Kiyoomi could fit in the same sentence, but as always – the Prince was full of surprises. At precisely seven in the morning, he had knocked on your door to wake you up. Not the maid, nor the butler. The Prince himself. He’d asked you to join him for breakfast, boasting that everything was from farm to table – the cheese from the milk of his cows, the meat from his poultry, the scrambled eggs neatly placed around the plate – save for the wine he’d brought all the way from Greenville. ‘Nothing like liquor from your lands,’ he’d commented, and poured you a drink. You stifled a laughter. You hadn’t thought one could have wine for breakfast, but alas, the customs in the Palace were different. Here, you were just you, and Kiyoomi could simply be.

After breakfast, he’d given you a tour of his farmhouse, although calling it ‘house’ was entirely too humble.

Located in the countryside, surrounded by thick greenery and a dense forest with overlooking hills, Kiyoomi’s farmhouse felt like a sanctuary compared to the Palace. He didn’t even need much security, whatnot with the tall trees decorating the driveway to offer privacy. His gardens contained lush greens, and a diverse variety of flowers you hadn’t ever seen before. He knew them all by heart, even their scientific names. You teased him about it, how he was just showing off at this point, because who spews scientific names of flowers when no one asked? He took it with grace, though, or as much grace a flustered Prince could, anyway.

He’d scratched the back of his ear, looking at everywhere but you. “You spend enough time reading books and you can’t help studying everything.”

“I think it’s impressive,” you nudged his shoulder, “I’d certainly boast, too, if I had that knowledge.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “But maybe not about flowers. No one cares about flowers.”

“I do!”

“Sure,” he snorted, “As long as they’re pretty enough to look at, you’ll like them.”

“I can’t help that I like pretty things.”

“No, you can’t,” his face smoothened, and he snuck a glance at you – all too quickly before straightening up. “I certainly can’t.”

Sometimes, you wondered if Kanami made herself busy on purpose. If maybe, just maybe, she had installed cameras all around the farmhouse and giggled to herself if she could see you and her son interacting. Bent over a bed flowers, with Kiyoomi explaining their origins, and you listening intently. Or Kiyoomi introducing you to his chickens (yes, he’d named them), and then snickering (which you soon learned was his version of a laugh) when you ran away after a mother hen mistook you for a threat. Of course, you didn’t share the same sentiments of humor. The mother hen’s claws were not a laughing matter, but Kiyoomi thought otherwise. He’d simply shaken his head because he wouldn’t let any form of harm come to you, anyway.

You wished that offhanded comment didn’t make you feel so warm inside.

Being here with Kiyoomi was… Well, it was better than anything you’d expected. This was how you wished your honeymoon had been – filled with laughter, sharing in good, lighthearted conversation, and being a part of nature. Spending minutes in silence while you took in your daily dose of sunlight. Being in good company. You were glad you accepted Kanami’s offer, and you only enjoyed yourself more with each passing hour you’d made yourself acquainted with Kiyoomi and his precious farm.

And then there was that nagging voice that told you he wasn’t Rintaro.

You snorted. He definitely wasn’t. If he had been Rintaro, you would probably be in the middle of nowhere, miserable, and crying yourself until you’ve dried up like a prune. No – you didn’t want to think about him right now. It would defeat the entire purpose of this getaway. You wanted to enjoy yourself, and enjoy you did. For now, you gazed upon everything your human eyes could take in – the slope of the hills, the slight swaying of the tree leaves from the fresh breeze, the cows grazing on the grass, and Kiyoomi’s dog, Kael, herding those who went astray. Such a confusing image to paint, that of a Prince wearing his riding boots at the porch of his back garden.

“Wow,” you exhaled, following him into the stables. He’d lent you some boots, too, and was now reigning the straddle parts for the horses. “I underestimated your place. Do you own all of these lands?”

“I do,” he proudly said, and swung open the tiny, white wooden gates to reveal a tall horse with shining black fur. He chuffed upon the sight of Kiyoomi. His tail wagged, his snout reaching over just when Kiyoomi extended his palm to cup his nose. In front of you, a ghost of a smile flittered on his lips. “This is Astra. He’s mine. Had him since he was an infant; Kanami got him for me on my twelfth birthday.”

You couldn’t help but smile too. For all his grumpiness around his Mother’s fretting of him, it was clear the Prince loved her. And it was such a nice thing to see since the other Princes weren’t so lucky when it came to their mothers.

Kiyoomi beckoned you to come forward, and so you did. You were hesitant at first, because Astra was enormous. He stood at least two heads taller than you, with thick, powerful legs that could easily crush you with one kick. But Kiyoomi was there holding him close by his reigns, and you grew more confidence with each step. Smiling at him, you bravely lifted a hand to cup his face.

“Hello, Astra. You are so beautiful.”

Astra chuffed at your compliment, and Kiyoomi let out his barely audible breathy chuckles.

“He’s flattered by the compliment. And that one next to him is Lucy, his girlfriend. She’s great for beginner riders,” he was now fixing Lucy’s reigns as he spoke, adjusting the foothold before leaning over her to glance at you. “Have you ridden one before?”

“Only several times.”

Nodding, you followed as Kiyoomi led the two horses outside the barn. Astra seemed to be over the moon upon being with Lucy without being separated by their gates, chuffing and whinnying repeatedly while bumping noses with her. Lucy was much more reserved, but returned the gesture and even licked him adoringly, which made your chest ache. Gods. Now you were jealous because these horses had a healthier, more loving relationship than you.

Before you could dwell on it, however, a pair of strong arms were already lifting you up. You yelped as you rose mid-air and flailed wildly. The ground below you disappeared, and soon, you were perched on Lucy’s back, while Kiyoomi effortlessly hopped on a much taller Astra. The action seemed so natural to him as if he’d done it multiple times – and dare you say, infuriatingly attractive. The Prince had the top three buttons of his shirt undone because he’d worked a sweat chasing the chickens away from you a while ago, and his curls stuck to his forehead in a way that showcased high-chiseled cheekbones you hadn’t seen before. And… wow. He was breathtaking without realizing it. It felt wrong to think that way, to feel this way, but it was just admiration, was it not? He was a literal Prince Charming, with a dash of awkwardness, and a spritz of unexpected geekiness.

You turned away when his large, calloused, and veiny hands began stroking Astra’s mane. You’d rather not have to think about how those same strong, yet gentle hands lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, and truly, that white shirt of his did little to hide his muscular build. Clearing your throat to rid yourself of those thoughts, you tightened your grip on the reins. “Where to, my Prince?”

“To the edge of the world.”

A smirk was all he gave you before he tapped Astra with his ankles, sending the stallion running off. Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected he’d leave you behind, and you refused to be left alone. Mimicking his gestures, you tapped on Lucy and bellowed. She ran and ran, hard enough that your bottom began to feel sore, but that was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the sensation of the fresh wind whipping at your cheeks, the sun shining down on your skin, and the sounds of hooves hitting the Earth. Your racing heart matched the beat of Lucy’s footsteps as she easily caught up to a carefree Astra. She whinnied, and he responded with one of his own, making the Prince smile when you showed up beside him not a moment later – the smile on your faces proud.

“I knew you could catch up,” he shouted from over the wind, and your smile broadened.

The two of you rode aimlessly for what seemed like hours, even if it was just only minutes. Kiyoomi took you everywhere – in the middle of the forest, where you squealed as the horses ran over puddles and the dirt muddied your boots. But you found yourself unable to care. You were filled with so much glee, with so much life, that you were certain your heart was now pulsing in your arms. It was surreal how much you could see in slow motion despite the speed you were riding at. How your vision had become crystal clear as you took in the tall trees surrounding you, the deers running off and hiding when you’d ran past them. How Kiyoomi always seemed to be a few steps ahead, but always looking back to see if you’d follow him. You did, and you always would, even as he led you deeper into the forest and past the clearing.

Astra slowly skidded to a halt as you took in the scenery in front of you, and you tugged on Lucy, eyes wide open and jaw dropped. A nearly torn down fortress built of stone that was probably piled hand by hand stood before you, vines and moss growing from the walls from old age. It seemed sturdy, yet the holes and cracked towers said otherwise. It must have been centuries since someone last used this place.

“Are those castles?”

“Castle ruins,” he corrected, clicking his tongue as he led Astra to circle around the ruins. “Before Inarizaki split from Itachiyama, the first rulers set their base here.”

“So this was where the original monarchs were.”

It was the typical layout of a castle, with a flatter centre in the middle, and two, tall pillars on its side to serve as its towers. The right tower had already been destroyed, though, leaving a hole in its wake. The large wooden doors from the entrance of the castle had multiple marks on it, as if people had repeatedly tried to beat the doors down with their stakes and weapons. Black marks also decorated the stones, and judging by the empty, darkened patches of soils that was blatantly contrasting with the otherwise growing greenery around the ruins, this Castle must’ve been burnt down at some point.

“Yes, but as you can see, they’re nothing but ruins now. Inarizaki took with them whatever old rules and scriptures they had back in the old days. That’s why we still keep some traditions in our country, although its true origin was from the True Land. The old Itachiyama.”

“Traditions such as last dances on a debut ball?”

“Traditions such as that,” he agreed, rather shyly. His voice had grown distant now that he rode before you, more out of protectiveness as he peeked in the open windows. Once satisfied with what he’d seen, he jumped off Astra and walked to you, absentmindedly placing his large palm on your knee. “We can go see the ruins for ourselves, if you would like.”

Heat spread from where his hand came into contact with your skin – or leggings. Blinking back your nervousness, you reached your hands out to Kiyoomi, letting him gently place you down until you were steady on your feet.

“We are allowed? Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

“We are royals. Technically, these are the homes of our ancestors,” he stated, and then pursed his lips when you didn’t laugh. “It was a jest. Everyone is free to roam around as they please. As I have said, Itachiyama has less rules.”

You venture inside the castle ruins, fascinated by it all. You kept thinking about what Kiyoomi said – how these were the homes of your ancestors. Once, a long time ago in history, Inarizaki and Itachiyama were united as one, huge territory. Their Kings and Queens lived here and wrote history for themselves. People roamed these hallways once, and it must have been bustling with life. These same stone staircases in which you climbed on were probably littered with torches beside the walls, with their knights guarding each mysterious and hidden door. And gods, the things done behind those doors. Did the Princesses giggle amongst themselves during tea times? Did the Princes like to sharpen their swords and had their choice of horses, as well?

Did the Kings love their Queens?

So many questions unanswered, except Kiyoomi did have answers. He satisfied your unending curiosity by telling you everything you wanted to know – that yes, Kings did love their Queens and former monarchs had many heirs and heiresses. Or how the original Castle only had a right and left wing, but the last King before the country was split in two dedicated a South wing as a burial spot for his wife, the last Queen, who had died in childbirth. He was nicknamed ‘The King of the End’ because his wife’s death led him to a dark path of war, bloodshed, and ultimately, the separation of Inarizaki and Itachiyama. He had become so cruel in his grief that he wielded his power as King wrongly; starving his people, abusing his servants, and neglecting his daughter, who had become the leader of a movement that gave way to Itachiyama becoming an independent territory. Unable to handle anymore of her father’s evil ruling, she’d banished him to Inarizaki, to the northern areas of the country, where her father continued the monarchy.

The story – heartbreaking and dark – caused the mood to dampen. You watched as Kiyoomi stopped inspecting the rooms, probably imagining for himself how this place held a lot of memories, both good and bad. He’d even made a point that he technically wasn’t a half-blood foreigner, since Inarizaki and Itachiyama all originated from one nation.

But he brushed it off, and you wondered if the Prince somehow felt alienated for being the only ‘half-blooded Prince.’ Which you found ridiculous because if that was the logic you followed, then all the Princes except Rintaro would be a half-blood for being illegitimate children. You made no other comments, however, and instead let the Prince reveal things about himself that he could in his own pace. Still, it seemed his mind had gone off a different path the quieter you got, and you nudged his shoulder, a teasing smile on his face.

“I still can’t believe you attended my debut ball. I was a nobody at the time. To hear of a Prince coming…”

Kiyoomi looked confused.

“You were not a nobody. Your father is the kingdom’s general.”

“Yes, but we like to keep to ourselves, and Inarizaki hasn’t fought wars in decades. It isn’t like my father is an active soldier when he has no battles to partake in.”

“He is still an important figure for the Crown. Not to mention your mother comes from a family of business tycoons,” he reminded, narrowing his eyes at you in what seemed to be ridicule – more out of puzzlement than rudeness. “You truly are unaware of your influence, do you? Your family is one of the three noble families that helped Inarizaki’s kings hold the crown.”

You shrugged. You were well-aware of your family’s position in the Kingdom, but it did not feel the same. “That may be true, but I did not go out much. People did not make efforts to befriend me, either. I cannot help but think people do not care much about me.”

“All of the Princes received the invitation letter for your birthday, but we get them enough that Her Majesty discards them, or leaves it up to our judgment should we wish to go,” as if recalling the memory crystal clear, the Prince went beet-red from his neck-up. He tried to hide it by puffing out his collar, but to no avail. The redness of his skin still peeked from his shirt, and you stifled a giggle. “I had just turned twenty-one at that time, so my mother had visited. I guess you could say it was sheer luck that she chanced upon your invitation and insisted I go.”

“To establish connections and form alliances with the general’s daughter?” you cajoled.

“To find a wife, actually,” he sputtered out, “My mother worries I will die a lonely man because I do not speak with women. Or to anyone, at all.”

“You speak plenty to me.”

“Only because I enjoy your company, and our conversations are not mindless, boring politics.”

“True, but if we were back in the Palace, I would have probably talked about politics with you. Or worse, biscuits and tea. We would not have been able to talk casually about flowers, or say,” you gestured around you, “The history of our countries and all the wars caused by a man in love.”

“May history never repeat itself,” he replied drily, and you laugh.

You roamed the ruins for a little longer, noticing details like the dusty and faded portraits of the old monarchs. Some of them have been torn up, save for a portrait of a beautiful young woman who must have been the last Queen. The one buried at the South Wing.

The rooms had been emptied, too, which you found off. You expected to see at least remnants of a bed, or a study, but Kiyoomi had explained that not much survived the fire. You were enamored with everything, though, feeling like you were time travelling. And you didn’t stop exploring until you’ve turned every room upside down without bothering the evidence of history, and Kiyoomi was content to let you be. Later, when you’d both grown tired and weary of the weakening rock fortress, you returned to where you tied Astra and Lucy.

The way back home was blissfully silent. The horses were no longer running, since Kiyoomi said the sun would shine brightest at this time of day, and he wanted to take you somewhere beautiful. Letting him lead the way, he led you back inside the forest and towards a lake hidden by the tall trees. It almost felt like a gated pathway, with all the trees lined up to the side and the lake sitting smack in the middle of it all.

He was right – the sunlight made everything a hundred times more beautiful.

The water glinted, gleamed like it was made of crystals. The water was so clear you could see everything underneath, from the tiny pebbles, down to the fishes swimming underneath in all bright colors. Even your reflection smiled back at you brightly. Unable to help it, you dipped a finger into the water, fascinated by the small ripples it caused, and how the smaller fishes scurried away from the motion.

Meanwhile, Kiyoomi secured the ties of the horses around a nearby tree and opened his satchel, handing you a red apple. “I grew it myself,” he nudged the fruit towards, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

You bit down on it, and held back a moan. Gods. Was Itachiyama heaven or something? Or did fruits just taste better fresh and without preservatives? His apples were juicier than the ones you have back at home, and you were gobbling it, uncaring of the juices that ran down your wrist, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. Kiyoomi had an apple for himself, too, but he seemed too amused by your reactions to start eating his.

“So,” you leaned back on your palms, bum flat on the bank, “What do you do back in the Palace?”

“Avoid Belleview at all costs.” He casted another sideways glance your way. “Do not ask me why.”

You wouldn’t dare ask why – you both knew – but you couldn’t stop your tongue from expressing your curiosity.

“Has… has Her Majesty ever pressured you and Iris to have children?”

“That is a very personal and uncomfortable question,” he sighed, exasperated, “But to answer you, no. She could care less about us as long as we fulfill our duties and do the necessary work. I imagine the case will be different for you, though, seeing as you married her precious son.”

“She hasn’t told us anything, but on the dinners we share with her, she will imply a thing or two.”

He snorted, and took a bite of his apple. “Well, good luck with that.”

“Have you known Iris a long time?”

“No. I never even knew she existed until Her Majesty told me I was getting married,” gently, he took the leftover apple core from your hands and pulled out a handkerchief, dipping the ends of it into the water before reaching for you. You stared at him, confused, when he gestured to your palms. Realization dawned on you, and you handed him your palm. Carefully, the Prince rolled up the sleeves of your blouse all the way up to your elbows and wiped the sticky remnants of the juice with his damp handkerchief.

His actions – so gentle yet intentional – made you feel all kinds of things you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

Yet, you couldn’t make yourself pull away from his grasp even if you wanted to.

“Why do you keep asking about her? I figured you would avoid anything that concerns her.”

You winced. “I just… I cannot help but compare myself to her. I often wonder what she has that I do not. Why Rintaro is completely smitten with her, and why he cannot love me just the same,” you admitted, thankful that the Prince has your hand in his, otherwise you’d make all sorts of flailing gestures and make yourself look more like a bumbling fool compared to the ever-so-graceful Iris. “It’s not to say I am the better choice, but have I not given him everything? I gave him my heart and soul. I vowed to spend a lifetime with him. What has she given him that I could not?”

“My brother is a fool. You cannot intellectualize a fool’s decision.”

“On the contrary, your brother is very smart.”

“Academically, maybe, but he knows nothing about life.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“I have lived longer than him.”

“Only by three years!”

“And yet it is crystal clear to me what Rintaro cannot see,” he pulled your sleeves down and stashed his handkerchief back into his satchel, leaning forward with his hand on his knee as he cast you a hard look. You couldn’t read whether it was anger, or something else entirely on his face. “He is a witless excuse of a husband, and more so of a man, because he truly deluded himself that he is in love with Iris when he is not.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Those two do not even talk,” he scoffed, “They merely use each other’s bodies as a way of getting oneself of. But I doubt Rintaro has shared anything intimate with her, and knowing Iris, she will not open her heart to him, either. At least I know very well she does not share the same affections.”

You shook your head, consciously rubbing your wrists together.

“What you speak of is impossible. They care about each other.”

“Rintaro doesn’t even know Iris is allergic to shellfish. He has tried feeding it to her plenty of times on their ‘dates.’ And Iris has not an effing clue over what Rintaro likes outside the bedroom – things that a lover should know about their significant other. What makes Rintaro smile? What makes Iris tick? They know none of that. They are not in love. They are just lonely.”

You flinched. “I was lonely, too, when I met the Crown Prince. Does that mean I was not in love, as well?”

“You are in love,” he gritted his teeth, “Hopelessly so. And I honestly wish you had chosen better. Anyone instead of him.”

You opened your mouth to retort – somehow, his words sounded like an insult. As if you were an idiot for falling for Rintaro, and even worse, for marrying him. Fine, you were stupid. Sure, you didn’t make the best decisions when you were in love, but must he be so cruel about it? His words had pierced your pride and shattered it, and you felt humiliated. So you stood up, determined to walk away from the Prince when your foot slipped on something, and the world turned upside down.

The blue of the sky shifted from the clearness of the water as you were submerged. The scream you were about to let out was lodged in your throat, and you kept sinking, sinking, sinking. You thrashed your arms out wildly as your wet clothes weighed you down. You struggled to breathe, your eyes stinging until you were pulled out of the water and hefted into Kiyoomi’s lap.

“Princess! Are you well?”

His hands were everywhere. Cracking your eyes open to ensure you were with him, his thumb brushing over your lips numb from the cold, and his other hand, warm and comforting at the small of your back. Briefly, in the haze of post-shock and the urgent need for air, you could vaguely see your bra peeking out from the white shirt sticking to you like a second skin. A pastel pink bra – and suddenly you were cold for an entirely different reason. Thankfully, Kiyoomi didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was too much the gentleman to comment on it.

“Princess,” he tapped your cheek, and this time, you had no choice but to look him in the eye to reassure him. The Prince audibly sighed. “Thank the heavens you didn’t go too deep. Are you okay?”

Your teeth chattered, but you managed to flash him a thumbs-up.

“Th-the water is effing cold.”

Alarm painted over his features. The next thing you know, the Prince was shedding off his shirt and motioning for you to remove yours, as well. He’d already turned around before you could be embarrassed, taking his shirt from his outstretched hands. And my, was it warm. It smelled like him, too, of freshness and mint and nature. But mostly, it was dry, and you had no protests as Kiyoomi carried you once again – this time on Astra’s back instead of Lucy.

“Here, ride with me. Share my heat just until we head back to the farm.”

“O–” Kiyoomi was behind you in an instant, his chest deliciously warm as it pressed flushed against your back. Meanwhile, you burned to your core with embarrassment. He didn’t notice, though, because the Prince was too busy trying to get Lucy to follow him, all at the same time leading Astra forward with you blocking his path. He was so close his natural scent wafted off of you, something so masculine yet comforting. The muscles on his arms also flexed when he reached for Astra’s reign, and you were certain you were being tested right then and there. “–Kay.”

“Princess, can you promise me something?”

The hairs at the back of your hair stood. He sounded a lot closer than you previously thought he was. “Y-Yes?”

“You should avoid Iris at all costs. She is not who you think she is.”

You made it back to the farmhouse in half the time it took you to reach the castle ruins. Kiyoomi had been so worried over your health that he rushed back home. Eventually, he’d snapped at Lucy with such a fierce tone that the poor girl scurried forward, leaving you three behind with a heavier weight. You knew he meant well though – Lucy knew the way back home, and he figured seeing her without a rider would alert one of the servants to anticipate your arrival. True to his words, someone was already waiting.

“Oh, dear! What happened to you?!”

Kanami rushed forward just as Kiyoomi set you down. Like mother, like son – you thought. Kanami wouldn’t stop raising your limbs as if to inspect an injury, and she paled once she realized you were wearing Kiyoomi’s shirt, and her son strutted around the porch in his mighty, shirtless glory. Oh, Heavens. All that farm work really paid off. He was nicely built.

“She fell in the lake,” he responded calmly, though his frantic movements as a servant ran forwards said otherwise. “Please draw a bath for her. And make it warm. Thank you.”

“Yes, sir!” The maid scurried away.

Kiyoomi rushed inside the house first, while Kanami guided you back like you were a newborn foal unsteady on her legs. You didn’t need it, but the kind gesture was appreciated. A moment later, Kiyoomi appeared with a handful of towels.

“Th-thank you.”

“Oh, my, you poor thing,” Kanami crooned, “I will prepare dinner for the three of us. Please do join when you have made yourself comfortable, Your Highness.”

Excusing yourself, you headed upwards and took a warm bath. The tub had already been filled with vanilla and other oils, and you soaked in it, letting the hot water seep into your skin and relax your muscles. It also wouldn’t hurt to smell nice – especially when Kiyoomi always smelled delectable. But just as that thought crossed your mind, and the sight of his abs flexing while he ran around the porch looking for a maid flashed in your memory again, you dunked your head under the water. You’ve heard of cold dunks, but now, it was time for hot dunks.

You had to stop thinking about him.

Or… why should you? Was it to stay loyal to Rintaro? Did it even make sense to be loyal to someone who wasn’t? Was it a sin to be attracted to Kiyoomi when Rintaro was clearly into Iris?

You were exasperated, and by the time you’d finished your bath, the time on the clock told you that you perhaps enjoyed it a little too much. Remembering that Kanami was preparing dinner for tonight, you quickly got dressed and rushed downstairs. You were about to announce yourself when you heard two voices – the loud, clear one of a woman’s, and an aggravated, quieter voice belonging to a man. You froze in your spot, unsure if you should make yourself known. But what if they were arguing? Would that make it worse? Or maybe you should just walk away and not eavesdrop? You should respect their privacy –

“If you have something to say, just spit it out.”

“Silly boy. You could be sweeter to your mother. I cooked your favorite dinner!”

“This was my favorite five years ago.”

“Well, how would I know? You don’t tell me anything!” Kanami argued, and faster than you could blink, her aggravated tone quickly turned into a sickly-sweet one – the persuasive Kanami you knew so well. “Anyways, I just wanted to say I am very proud of you, son. I heard Her Majesty was pleased with the work you managed to finish here, and your people are very delighted to hear you have returned. I really wish you would visit more often.”

“…I will try.”

“And bring Her Highness with you, of course,” she added, and you bit your lip. You could just be imagining it, but Kanami sounded like she had another meaning to it. Like Kiyoomi was somehow by default going to invite you. “Also… speaking of the public. Well, they’re just eager to see you! Both of you! Which is why I am inviting you both to the premiere event of my latest movie-”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Too many cameras. I don’t like it,” he tried to reason, and you heard footsteps echoing from the dining room. Without enough time to duck and hide, you plastered yourself against the wall, forcing a smile on your face when the Prince caught you red-handed. He smirked, seemingly amused, crossing his arms on his strong chest. “Let me ask the Princess herself if she’d like to go, though. If she does, I might change my mind.”

“I…I’ve never been to a premiere night. I would like to,” you smiled, albeit shyly, your gaze darting between Kanami and her son – who you think is now going to be your biggest problem. Or more like the things he was making you feel was becoming the problem.

“Then it is settled! I’ll bring my stylists over and we will all get ready for tomorrow’s event,” she announced, circling the dining table as she pumped her fists in the air. “Oh, you guys will be the talk of the whole country for weeks! This is going to be great!”

“I look forward to seeing your movie, Kanami.”

“Oh, and don’t forget! You’re each other’s dates,” she winked, and just like that, all hell broke loose.

For a country that claimed to not indulge in the luxuries, Kanami’s premier night could rival that of a Prince’s birthday ball. A red carpet. A hundred photographers, with even more journalists and interviews. Celebrities were everywhere you looked. This night was the definition of a night to be remembered, with all the flashing lights on you that it was actually blinding. Apparently, the public had caught wind that Prince Kiyoomi, and you, a Princess of Inarizaki and a potential Queen, would be attending, so the crowd doubled in size in anticipation. It wasn’t often their lovely Prince made an appearance to public events solely catered for media and entertainment. It was even more baffling he brought a Princess with him – one that wasn’t his wife.

At first, you were anxious they might not like you. You were the date of their Prince, and he wasn’t your husband – but the crowd cheered and screamed as you left the car, your gloved arm looped around Kiyoomi’s. He was extra handsome tonight – his curls gelled back, revealing a handsome face sculpted by the Gods themselves, and he wore a tailored suit nothing short of extravagant.

Kanami’s team did great making you look beautiful too. And dare you say, you felt confident enough to be standing next to the Second Prince. You wore a sleeveless champagne colored dress that hugged your figure well, with a fur cloak wrapped around your shoulders. A Bvlgari Serpenti Viper necklace hang on your neck, a gift from Kanami before she left first for the event. It was a simple look – nothing too flashy, and yet you could tell the difference from your usual outfits were you to show up in royal events.

Firstly, you wouldn’t be allowed to show this much skin. The amount of collarbones exposed for the world to see would have Her Majesty in a cardiac arrest. And the necklace you wore wasn’t dainty or minimal enough – by Her Majesty’s standards. The fur cloak would have her in shambles, too, but somehow, you couldn’t care that much.

Kiyoomi couldn’t tear his gaze off of you, and the cameras flashed at each move you made. Every blink, every smile, every nervous graze of your finger against Kiyoomi’s arm.

The last time people had noticed you this much and showed their love for you was when you married Rintaro. The only difference was you didn’t feel this exhilarated. On that day, you only felt miserable. Like your entire hurt was on display for the world to see. That your heartbreak was being broadcasted worldwide, and the smiles Rintaro sent your way was scripted, perfected for the cameras.

Kiyoomi wasn’t like that.

Kiyoomi wasn’t like him.

He never looked at the cameras once. He only had his eyes on you, and when he spoke, he did so behind your earrings, as if he was aware people could read his lips and this moment was private. It was just you and him, and not even the watchful, inquisitive eyes of the world could take this away from you. He made you feel safe, utterly protected even when presented for everyone to judge and criticize.

“If you wish to leave at any point, tell me and I will take you away from here.”

His voice, deep and smooth and gentle, sent shivers down your spine. It felt oddly intimate taking photos with him like this, how his arms had snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him. How he would always speak secretively, yet the slight curling of his lips would be open for the cameras to witness. How his fingerless ring sits comfortably at your hip, and you were leaning against him, smiling at the cameras whilst he smiles at you. The moment was utterly sensitive that you feared one wrong move could undo it all.

And you wouldn’t let it.

Turning your head to the side, you leaned up to whisper at him. “Thank you, but I think I will enjoy myself tonight.” You kept your voice low like his, spoke your words slowly as if you were treading on icy ground, and when you pulled away, you noticed you’d left a smear of your lipstick on the tip of his ear.

You didn’t tell him to wipe it away.

You didn’t stop when he held your hand. You didn’t tear your gaze away from him when he led you inside the building, and neither did you tell him to stop when he kept his arm around your waist until you’d found your seats. Admittedly, you couldn’t focus on the movie. It was difficult when you could feel Prince Kiyoomi’s gaze on you – how braver he seemed when in the dark. You feign ignorance to it all, or more like you tried, because you lightly pinched his thigh and told him to focus on the movie. For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you. But then he turned his head away and you both watched his mother’s romance film – which, thankfully, she isn’t the love interest in. It would be extremely awkward if she was. But it was still a rather intense romance film – a forbidden relationship between a man and his best friend’s wife.

Kiyoomi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You were now at the scene where the female main character and her lover, her husband’s best friend, were under the rain. They had gotten into an argument – the woman didn’t want to continue their relationship anymore, didn’t want to have to continue lying to those close to her, but the man was having none of it.

He loved her.

He’s loved her for a long time.

He loved her first.

And he knew damn well her husband wasn’t treating her right. They only got married anyway because he had gotten her pregnant at a university party, and things went downhill from there. But he could only handle so much. He could only endure so much. Eventually, all the love he’d been holding back had grown too much it had poured out from his veins. He would run after her, chase her, and follow her wherever she went. She had his heart from the moment he laid his eyes on her. He wouldn’t give up on her now.

But it was wrong – she knew it was.

You gripped the edge of your seat.

The man, broken and down to his knees, professed his love to her. His tears were flowing down his face on time with the rain, and the woman… Well, she was devastated for a lack of better words. She didn’t like her marriage. She didn’t even like her husband. But what would people say? They wouldn’t understand. They would only see her as a lowly woman who cheated on her husband, with his best friend of all people. They would never see her pain, or how she, too, craved to be loved the way she loved others.

No matter what she said, the man was never swayed. He would fight for her. He would be brave for her. And then he stood up, took her face into his palm, and kissed her. Your eyes grew wide. The kiss was too intense it was hard to believe it was only acting. No, he kissed her like he was consuming her soul, like he was breathing her in. Like he was the air she needed to live, and without her, he would be nothing. And when she kissed him back, she had melted. Like all of pins and needles she used to hold herself up withered away because there was no need to be strong when she knew he would always catch her, that he would be there to be her pillar, her strength, her fortitude.

You looked away from the kiss. Beside you, Kiyoomi had turned his gaze away from the screen, too, and his eyes were so dark it was hard to see him at all. But you knew he was looking at you. And something about his gaze seemed forbidden – felt like a secret. Because in this theater, everyone had their eyes on the screen, completely unaware that the Prince held the same intensity in his eyes when the man kissed his beloved.

Your lips tingled.

Your fingertips curled, aching, itching to reach out to him. He was right there – just within your reach. You could run your hands through his thick, dark curls. You could stare into those dark eyes and get lost within them. It wasn’t love – no, not really. But it was the beginning of something more, and you didn’t know what was louder – your heartbeat or the cheers of the audience as the movie came to an end.

And then the realization struck you –

You wanted Kiyoomi to kiss you.

The lights flashed on. The audience cheered and applauded. The moment was broken.

You looked back to the stage, feeling cold dread wash over you. You couldn’t believe it. You had thought of a different man that wasn’t your husband in ways that were… inappropriate. Is this what Rintaro felt? When he looked at Iris, did he feel this need to have his lips on her? Did he yearn for her? But what could this mean? Were you falling for Kiyoomi? It couldn’t be. It’d only been a week. You were great friends – yes, friends! And friends didn’t go around kissing each other. Friends didn’t want their friends to kiss them.

But you had wanted him to, anyway, and now your dress felt suffocating.

Wordlessly, you stood up from your seat. You headed for the exit, or the restroom, you were unsure. All you knew was that you had to leave. You turned away from everyone who greeted you, pushed away anyone who asked for a photo, and your blood ran cold. What would the tabloids say? That you were a rude Princess? You were sure you look like a madman running out of the theatre when the night had barely even begun. Maybe you looked like a criminal caught in the middle of her act – and what crime? Adultery.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You willed them away, because you didn’t want to ruin your makeup. But you just… This was all a mistake. You should have never come to Itachiyama.

He was your husband’s brother!

You pushed the doors open, arms raised to call for a driver when a flash of lights bombarded you. It stung, blinding you for a moment until you stumbled back. A horde of reporters were shoving their phones and microphones in your face before you could process anything. You pushed back to the crowd, begging for reprieve, but there were too many of them, and only one of you. They all screamed your name, chanted your title, and in the midst of it all, you heard Rintaro’s name being spoken.

“Please,” you insisted, “I just want to get back to my car. Please, let me–”

“Your Highness! Princess!” a reported shoved his way through the crowd, his microphone hitting your lip hard enough that your teeth ached. Shit. You lowkey missed the strict customs in Inarizaki – people wouldn’t be so comfortable being in your personal space otherwise. But the reporter’s next words made your stomach drop.

“Did you visit here with Prince Kiyoomi as payback?”

“I – excuse me?”

Stunned into silence, you stared back at the man demanding answers from you. There was a crazed look in his eyes, his free hand clutching a camera that had taken multiple photos at the look of surprise in your face. Your sweat turned cold, and you took a step back. You headed back for the building, only to collide with a firm chest and a familiar scent washing over you. Before you could do anything, Kiyoomi had spun you around to face him, your head tucked in his neck as he pushed through the crowd. “Out of my way!”

You clung onto him like a child. You close your eyes, letting him shoulder all the pushing and shoving, all to keep you safe within his hold. The entire way back to the car, Kiyoomi bellowed at the people to give way for the both of you, and you’d never heard him sound so angry. Yet, you didn’t feel scared – at least, not of him.

The night was just taking an unexpectedly wrong turn, and you weren’t sure how much more you can handle.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried into his chest, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared.”

“Do not answer them. Those are reporters and journalists crazed for the latest gossip.”

“Princess! Is it true your marriage is falling apart? Are you here in Itachiyama because of what the Crown Prince did? Answer us, Princess! What will be the future of the throne?”

The car came into view. Kiyoomi’s security team formed a barricade around you to allow you safe entry inside the car, puffing out their chests and shoving away anyone who dared tried to follow. Once inside, Kiyoomi barked on the driver to just move, and the car sped away. Your breathing slowly stabilized, but you were still far from being composed. In front of you, Kiyoomi had his hands balled into fists at his knees, his jaw clenched so tight you feared he’d pop a vein.

“Kiyoomi. What is going on? What were they talking about?”

Kiyoomi visibly relaxed at the sound of your voice. Dragging a hand down his face, he sighed, reaching for a tablet tucked away behind the seats and clicked on something. Then, he handed the tablet to you – and all your worst fears had now come to life. All the secrets you buried, the lies you’d kept – none of it was hidden anymore.

Trending for the past hour was an article recently published by a man named Kuroo Tetsurou, headlined ‘CROWN PRINCE RINTARO AND PRINCESS IRIS: LOVERS WITHOUT THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHER?’

The headline photograph was taken from a window, the photo blurry yet all the details were clear enough. Rintaro, on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his dress shirt unbuttoned and falling down on his shoulders. Iris, on top of him, bare with only her chest censored by a thick, black line. She was kissing him, her hands looped around her neck. Rintaro held her tightly, too, like he was afraid of letting her go – his hand with your wedding ring on it cupping her cheek as he kissed her back. On his neck were multiple hickeys, and her hair let loose and wild.

You felt like you stopped breathing entirely.

“Sir,” mumbled the driver nervously, “Are we going back to the farmhouse?”

“No. Head for the airport. We’re going straight to the palace.”

“But… Sir, your mother is still at the-”

“Kanami will understand,” grunted Kiyoomi, who suddenly snatched the tablet from you and shut it off. You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. Quite frankly, you didn’t know what to feel. You felt numb and about to go insane all at the same time. Kiyoomi was more composed, at least, but it seemed he knew about this earlier and came running after you. Sighing, he loosened his tie and leant back against his seat.

“We need to go back to Inarizaki.”

You swallowed. You knew it now – you weren’t any better than Rintaro in the photos. But you could be honest, you could tell the truth, you could make it all better and stop it before it gets worse.

“Kiyoomi,” you trembled, spinning your wedding ring around your finger. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

The Second Prince shut his eyes. His placid face a contrast to his fists tightening even more. “Don’t,” he said, his voice sounding more resigned. Funny, how he was inches away from you, and he suddenly felt so far away when he opened his eyes – and you couldn’t recognize the man sitting in front of you anymore. “Whatever it is, just don’t.”

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evilslushy · 20 days ago

Note

would you be open to doing bf headcanons for hamzah? they could be sfw and nsfw or just sfw. love ur writing :). <3

BF Headcanons _♡

SFW

i’m a very opinionated person, so asking me about my hamzah headcanons is a FIELD DAY for me

I’ve always said this but I feel like hamzah (in the beginning of the relationship) is very shy? Not in the way of “ignore any possible interaction between you and him” but more of a “ignores eye contact after a kiss” or “blushes when you call him a nickname for the first time”

He acts like he hates when you baby him but behind closed doors… BIGGEST BABY EVERRRR

It took him a while to hold your hand in public, not because he's embarrassed but again because he gets too flustered when you run your thumb up and down against the back of his hand,,, or when you play with his hands in general.

I MENTIONED THIS BEFORE IN FIC BUT HAMZAH IS AN EAR BLUSHER AND HE'S SO CUTE WAA

If you get on his lap and play with his hair while talking about random stuff, and you kiss him out of nowhere HE’LL SMILE THIS BIG SMILE AND COVER HIS EARS IM CRYINGGGGG HES SO CUTE

Speaking of kissing lololol

Hamzah’s kisses are SENSUAL, he takes his time and really makes sure you feel his love

Contrary to popular belief i feel like if you’re with hamzah for long enough his love language becomes physical touch

And i dont say that and mean ONLY kisses but hes such a cuddly person. HE NEEDS THAT TLC HES A BIG BOY

BUT. Big but! He is not the type of person to show affection publicly IM SORRYYY

Holding hands and hugging is fine but i think more intimate things he’d rather do in private…

Not because hes embarrassed as i said, he gets shy at other people perceiving that version of him especially since he isn’t ‘acting’ or ‘joking’

Also he feels like only you deserve to see him like this hehehe

His love language is quality time. Like actually.

His head on your chest, playing stardew valley on his ipad. You watching TV or reading while playing with his curls.

Another form of this is that he’ll ask you to be him and martins cameraman just to have you there with him

Or he’ll ask if you want to try a new coffee shop that opened down the street

He’s a man that likes to be around you 24/7

ALSO ALSO ALSO OMG OMG

HE WOULD SO FORCE YOU TO DO BACKGROUND VOCALS FOR SOME OF HIS MUSIC LIKE THE RAPPERS HE LIKES LMFAO

I dont wanna go on too long with this but one thing is for sure

You’re his princess for REAL treats you like ROYALTY lol

If you guys get into an argument. Even if you’re wrong, he ends up apologizing

“I shouldn’t have let it boil over to this anyway.”

10/10 boyfriend. Totally recommend.

NSFW

SISTA. I HAVE NEVER EVER THOUGHT I’D HAVE THE PLATFORM TO SHARE THESE THOUGHTS BUT I HAVE TO MAKE SURE YALL UNDERSTAND ONE THING!!!!

Hamzah is NAWT a boob or ass guy. HE LIKES BOTH EQUALLY. (He is secretly is ass-leaning tho LMFAO)

This is so funny but he totally is the type to smack your ass randomly when he walks by.

Do you get mad? Yes. Do you tell him to stop it? Yes. Does he stop? No. Do you secretly think it's kinda…? WELL YESSS

TWO WORDS. Boob squeezer.

I think from what we can understand so far. is that Hamzah is the handsy man. HIS HANDS ALWAYS SOMEWHERE LOL

sex drive is for sure high. and when i say high… ITS HIGHHH

Contrary to popular belief AGAIN.

Hamzah doesn’t partake in dirty talk much… not that he doesn't like it—he just wouldn’t in my opinion? It's not that he wouldn’t talk at all, but he is more of a heavy breathing, whimpering, moaning guy—pretty much more noises than actual words

Though as i said, he would talk sometimes, especially if he’s feeling really good, or his stamina is lasting him longer than he thought… he starts getting a little cocky

On the topic of dirty talk, if he does talk, 99.9% of it would be praising, i don't see him enjoying degrading unless you ask him to.. but he’ll be a little awkward about it LMFAOOO

Something like: “fuck, baby you’re taking me so good.”

(Unironically starts actually using good girl after a while of making it a joke btw)

Someone sent a request a few days ago and said “i feel like hamzah has a breeding kink” and why was i gagged?! NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT BUT YES, i feel like hes more into the thought filling u with *** then the thought of impregnating you if that makes any sense

Im talking too much… digital footprint go hard.

(A/N): this isnt proofread, i kinda braindumped but i had fun doing this!! Thank u anon for the request I HOPE U LOVE THIS CUTIE MWAAAAHH

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah fluff #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #deer’s reqs!#hamzah smut #hamzah the fantastic

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queen-of-deans-booty · 14 days ago

Text

Don't Take Her For Granted

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: angst, feeling like second best, fluff at the end

Request by @jessicalynnann: What about one where Jensen wishes he had a normal life with the reader but his wish comes true and he is married to some one else and he is a sports therapist and the reader is his secretary and she gets treated like shit by him and his wife but the only way to break the spell is for him to get the reader to fall in love with him some how

Summary: You and Jensen can’t have what’s normal to most because he’s famous. You’re usually okay with it, but there always comes a tipping point in which you can’t recover from. Jensen’s world is turned upside down, and it’s up to him to figure out how to make things right.

Square Filled: “If I like her, shoot me.” (2021) for @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Life hasn’t always given you what you wanted, but you’ve always had what you needed in the form of Jensen Ackles. He’s been your rock, your safe haven, and your best friend all rolled into one person. Tonight, you two are celebrating your one year marriage anniversary despite dating for nearly five years before that.

This is something you’ve been looking forward to all month and it’s finally here.

Jensen booked a night at one of the most expensive restaurants in town where you have to dress fancy in order to get in. You haven’t had a night off in so long so you were excited to dress up and do your hair and makeup. Jensen has been so busy finishing the 15th season of Supernatural and filming wrapped up last week.

You're so proud of the man he is and you love what he’s done not only for himself but for his fans. Still, you’re kind of happy he’s not actively in another job right now so that you two can focus on yourselves.

Jensen pulls up to the valet and both of you get out in front of the very nice restaurant. Jensen hands his keys to the valet and pulls you in closer.

“Happy anniversary,” he grins.

“Happy anniversary, baby.” You two walk to the front door of the restaurant when you hear Jensen’s name being called. You two look to the right and see two young girls smiling widely. They’re both wearing Dean Winchester shirts that look like they’ve been in the washer one too many times. Still, they look so happy to be seeing their favorite actor. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

Jensen breaks away from you and walks over to the girls who are head over heels for him. He’s polite and signs what they want signed and takes pictures with them. He keeps their interaction brief before returning to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You two head into the restaurant and approach the hostess’s table. “Party of two for Ackles.”

“Right on time. Right this way,” she grins and grabs two menus. She escorts you back to your table, and you sit across from Jensen. “Here are two menus. Your waitress will be over shortly.”

“Thank you,” you smile. You pick up your menu and look through the appetizers. “Wow, these options all look so good.”

“Get a few. Whatever you don’t eat, we can take home. I know how much you love leftovers.”

It’s true, you do. You always order more than you can eat just so you have something to bring home. A young woman walks over to the table, and you set your menu down to give her your full attention.

“Hi, welcome in. My name is Hannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

“Yes. I’d like a glass of your Rosé, please.”

“A beer is fine for me, thank you,” Jensen chimes in.

“Great. I’ll let you look over the menu a little longer and put those in for you.”

She leaves and you look at Jensen who is browsing the menu.

“So, Tammy’s wedding is coming up and as her Maid of Honor, I have to plan the bachelorette party for her. I was thinking of a scavenger hunt type thing since I know she loves those. If it’s okay with you, I wanted to create a list of things to buy and that would be the scavenger hunt that way Tammy gets presents as well as the bridesmaids. What do you think?”

“I think that’s great. Sounds like you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Is everything okay?”

Jensen puts his menu down and sighs. “I wanted to wait until later to tell you this but you need to know now before you plan any wedding events with me. I got offered a role for The Boys. The money is good. A little less than Supernatural, but I think this could be good for us.”

Whatever good mood you had is now gone. You don’t want to show him how disappointed you are but you can’t help it.

“Jensen, you know how happy I am for you, but you just got done with Supernatural. I thought we agreed to take a break for a little bit to spend more time together.”

“Filming doesn’t start for another month.”

You really don’t want to let this ruin your night and it will if you continue to talk about this.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow and just enjoy the night?”

“Sure.”

The waitress comes back with the drinks and you two put your orders in. You’re about to talk more about your sister’s wedding when two men come up to the table shyly at first.

“Sorry to interrupt your evening, but our girlfriends are big fans of Supernatural, and they would kill us if we didn’t at least ask for a picture. Do you mind?”

Jensen looks at you to see your eyes cast down. You grab your wine glass and take two big gulps. Maybe alcohol will numb your senses. You don’t say anything because you know whatever it is will be rude, so you opt for silence.

“Sure.”

The two men go on either side of your husband, and one of them takes a few pictures. The man to the right takes out a notepad and a pen, and you resist an eye roll. You don’t mean to be rude but this is supposed to be a special night for you and Jensen. Still, you don’t want to make a scene so you keep your mouth shut. Jensen signs the paper quickly, whatever will get them away faster.

“Thanks, man. You’re awesome!”

The two men leave, and you look at Jensen silently.

“No more distractions for the night.”

“Okay,” you say, unconvincingly.

Since Jensen has a bladder the size of a pea, that one beer is enough to make him want to pee. The food comes but Jensen is already out of his seat.

“I’ll be right back. Go ahead and start without me.”

“No, I’ll wait,” you smile.

Jensen pees fast so it’s not long until he’s coming out of the bathroom, but he’s stopped by one of the managers. The bathroom is in direct view from where you’re sitting so you can see all of this happening. First, you think something is wrong until Jensen and the manager shake hands with smiles on their faces. The manager takes out his phone and snaps a few photos with Jensen, and that’s the last straw for you.

Now you’re pissed.

Jensen knows you’re waiting for him. He knows the food on the table. Yet he continues to chat with the manager as if they’re lifelong friends catching up. You don’t want to start eating and be almost done before he gets back. By the time Jensen comes back to the table, the food isn’t hot anymore.

“Sorry, I got stopped by the manager,” he says as if you didn’t watch the whole exchange.

“I want to leave. Let’s go home.”

“Y/N.”

“Jensen, the food is cold now. I want to go home unless you still need to take pictures with the bartender. I’m sure he wants one.”

Jensen grows annoyed but he doesn’t say anything that he knows will make the situation worse. Instead, he puts more than enough cash down on the table and grabs his jacket. The entire ride home is filled with tense silence. Even when you get home, you get ready for bed without a word. You didn’t eat anything but you’re too pissed to want to eat something now.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re always sorry,” you say and walk out of the bathroom.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N? I can’t control people coming up to me in public.”

“No, you can’t, but how about try telling them no for a change instead of giving them what they want?”

“So, what, you don’t like my fans now?”

It’s just like Jensen to take your words and spin them. You grab your extra pillow and slam it on the bed angrily.

“I didn’t say that. You know I adore what you do. I love the fan base you have built. Don’t ever think I won’t support that side of you, but this night was our one year anniversary.”

“I wish I could turn it off. I wish I had a normal life, but this is what’s normal for me… for us. You knew that when you started dating me. You agreed to that when you married me.”

You sigh tiredly and sag your shoulders. You take off your rings and put them in the small seashell Jensen found on the beach one day that you keep on your bedside table.

“I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“I love you.”

You can’t hide the sadness in your smile. This part of his life sucks but you have to find out how to make lemonade with it.

“I love you, too.”

You two get into bed and fall asleep easily. When Jensen wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in bed. He feels the sheets but they’re cold which means you’ve been up for a while. He sits up and wipes the sleep out of his eyes when he notices it. The decor in the bedroom is different. Gone are all of your things, even the small seashell on the bedside table. The walls are void of pictures and the small trinkets you painted and put up. He jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom but the same thing greets him.

Your side of the sink is free of all of your clutter, bobby pins, stray pieces of hair, and the faint smell of hair products. He runs out of his room hoping to see you on the couch but he pauses before he can get far. Everything in his place is completely different. There is no evidence that a woman has ever lived here. Did you pack up your shit in the middle of the night and leave? He takes out his phone and looks through it, but all evidence of you has been wiped from it. No photos of you two on the couch when you were being lazy. No photos of you two in clay masks when you two had a spa night. No photos of your life with him.

What the hell?

His panic is interrupted by a call on his phone. He sees your name pop up, so that’s proof he still knows you.

“Where the hell is all of your things? What is going on?” he answers the call. “Where are you?”

“Um, work where you’re not. Your eight am is here. Are you on your way or should I reschedule?”

“What? What are you talking about? Did you pack up all your things and move out in the middle of the night?”

“Jensen, what are you talking about? Are you coming to work or not?”

He thinks it’s better to have a conversation with you face-to-face, so he decides not to freak out right now.

“Yeah, I’m on my way. Send me the address.”

He hangs up the phone and you look at the phone with a weird expression. Maybe he had too much to drink last night. Still, you do as you’re told and send him the address to the place he comes to every single day without fail.

“Mr. Ackles is running a bit late. I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you have a seat, he’ll be in shortly,” you say to his client.

“Sure. Thanks.”

You open up the chat window you’re using to talk to your friend and briefly read through the messages again to remind yourself of what you’re talking about. Right. Jensen.

You: Guess who is late? For a man who has been punctual for as long as I’ve known him, he sure had a lot to drink last night. He asked me for the address.

Kristy: At least you get a break from him, right?

You: I’m so sick and tired of this shit, K. If he’s not late, it’s the way I schedule his clients. If it’s not that, it’s the way the food is cold when I bring it to him. I can’t do any good in this man’s eyes.

Kristy: You know, I read about this in a book once where the secretary falls in love with her boss.

You: If I like him, shoot me.

The front doors open and Jensen comes strolling in looking disheveled and concerned. He slaps his hand on the counter and you back up slightly from how intense he’s being.

“What the hell is going on? All of your things are gone. It’s like we’re not even married anymore.”

Okay, you were not expecting that. You were expecting him to blame you for scheduling a client at eight in the morning even though he told you to, but you weren't expecting him to blurt out that you’re married. You put up a lot from him, but this is where you draw the line.

“Sir, I put up a lot from you, but this is inappropriate,” you sutter.

“What?”

“Your eight am is here waiting for you.”

“To do what? What is this place?”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” you whisper. All he does is give you a confused look. “Look, Mr. Ashby is here for his first appointment for therapy. He injured his leg while playing football. You’re his physical therapist. I know you like to drink but come on.”

Jensen looks back at the man and shakes his head.

“Reschedule it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it, okay?”

Jensen leaves and heads to his office, and you huff out in anger and annoyance. You’d quit on the spot if the benefits weren't so great. You make really good money and your rent is low. You’re not going anywhere no matter how big of a headache Jensen is.

Jensen shuts the door to his office and sinks into his desk chair. There is one person who might make sense of this, so he calls his best friend of almost his entire life.

“What’s up?” Jared asks when he answers the phone.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but just humor me for a sec, okay? I need the 411 on my life.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You know Y/N?”

“Your secretary?”

It pains him to hear that you’re just his secretary but he pushes past that.

“I swear I’m telling the truth but last night, we were married. We had a life together. I woke up this morning and everything changed.” Jared laughs much to Jensen’s annoyance. “What?”

“You? Married? That’s a good one.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not the settling down type which is fine, but you haven’t had a steady girlfriend since your prom date in high school.”

“What are you talking about?” Jensen asks, flabbergasted.

“You bring home a new girl every week.”

“What about Y/N?”

“Dude, you hate her. You don’t care about her. You never did.”

Jensen can’t believe what he’s hearing. You? How can he hate you? He fell in love with you the second he laid eyes on you.

“I gotta go.”

He ends the call immediately and just sits back as he tries to process this. After what feels like hours, he does a bit of research on himself to see the type of person he is. He doesn't know much about sports medicine or how to treat injuries, but with extensive research, he feels like he can fake it for today.

He goes through three clients before lunch, and he’s grateful for the break before two more clients. He leaves his office and approaches your desk with a shy smile. You’re putting things in your purse since you’re about to head out for a quick lunch.

“What are you doing for lunch?”

Your shoulders sag knowing what he’s asking you. “Nothing anymore. Do you want the usual?”

“What?”

“Don’t you want me to go all the way across town and get your lunch for you?”

“No, why would I want that?”

You frown. “Because you always want me to.”

“Not today. Do you have lunch plans?”

“I was just about to go get lunch and bring it back. I don’t normally go anywhere just in case you need me.”

Jensen pushes back the feeling of resentment. “Lunch is on me. Have some with me.”

You stand up angrily and glare at him much to his surprise.

“I don’t know what sick game you’re playing but leave me out of it. I just want to come here, do my job, and go home. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says in a soft voice.

“Now, I’m going out to lunch.”

“Okay.”

Jensen watches you storm off with a sigh. He knows he fucked up but he has to try and fix this. If this is his new life, he has to make it better.

A week goes by, and it’s been the most troubling week of his life. This is worse than when he wasn’t given the script until the last minute, and that entire week was full of fuck ups. He hates that you’re not by his side but he’s trying to get used to you being at a distance. He’s been nothing but nice to you but you’re not used to such a sudden change from the man who mistreats you.

Jensen came to work and barely said two words to you, as per usual, so you’re chatting with Kristy over messenger.

You: I don’t know if Jensen was hit in the head but he’s being nice to me. It’s weird.

Kristy: See? It’s the romantic office story I’ve been telling you about. Girl, he’s hot.

You: That doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s an asshole.

Jensen walks out of his office and approaches your desk, so you minimize the chat so he doesn’t see the messages. He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a shiny black Amex card.

“Lunch is on me today.” He sets the card on the desk. “Oh, and before I forget, I’m forced to go to some dinner with people I don’t even like. You’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Get whatever you want, also on me. I’ll pick you up at eight tonight.”

Jensen is gone before you can say anything. You pick up his card and reopen the chat window.

You: He just gave me his credit card and invited me to a dinner tonight. He told me to buy something new to wear.

Kristy: Girl take advantage! Maybe he’s changed.

You: I’ll believe it when I see it.

You’re not a gold digger but you are looking forward to dressing in something nice for a change. You normally don’t go out unless it’s with Kristy, but she lives in another state. You don’t spend much of Jensen’s money, mostly because you’re afraid he’s going to make you pay it back. Still, you spend the rest of the day buying new things and getting prepared for dinner.

The dress is simple and black with a top that accentuates your upper chest. It doesn't show a lot of cleavage but it does show off your shoulders and collarbone. Your hair is down but in soft waves, and you keep your makeup light. Your shoes are open-toed heeled sandals that make your calves look amazing.

The doorbell rings making Jensen right on time. You walk to the front door and open it, and you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. In his hands are flowers, your favorite kind.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You hate to admit it, but you’re shocked at this. “Here, these are for you.”

“Wow, thank you,” you say and take the flowers. You put the flowers in your kitchen and remove his credit card from your purse. “This is yours. Thank you for the new clothes.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Jensen escorts you to his car and opens the passenger door for you, and you slide into the car with ease. Jensen gets behind the wheel and starts driving to the restaurant.

“Why are you being so nice to me? You’re never this nice to me.”

“I finally appreciate the person you are.”

“Really?” He nods. “In all the time I’ve worked for you, you never once complimented me.”

This makes Jensen’s heart hurt. He briefly looks at you before returning to the road. “I’ve always found you beautiful.” Okay, now you’re shocked. “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’ll do better.”

You smile but don’t say anything else. Jensen makes it to the restaurant and hands the keys to the valet. He puts his hand on your lower back and escorts you inside the place.

“Jensen!” You look to the right to see a man coming your way. “I knew that was you. What you did for my daughter… She’s never walked better thanks to you.”

“Thanks. I’d love to chat, but I’m here with someone. Maybe next time, okay?”

Jensen leads you away from the man and over to the large table with a bunch of his associates that he has no business being with. The only person here that matters is you. Jensen pulls out your chair, and you sit down with a blush creeping up your neck.

“So, tell me about you.”

“What?”

“What are your likes? Hobbies? I want to know everything about you.”

You’re about to answer when someone across the table calls for Jensen.

“Hey, Jensen, tell Robert about that time you helped Peyton Manning.”

“Not right now. I’m talking to Y/N. Maybe later.”

All throughout the night, Jensen has made you a priority. You didn’t think it was possible, but maybe he has changed. You don't know it yet, but you’re falling for this man instead of the one you thought you knew.

After dinner, Jensen drives you home without any funny business. He walks you to your front door, and you turn to him with a genuine smile.

“Thank you for tonight. I actually enjoyed myself, believe it or not.”

Jensen leans in closer, and you freeze thinking he is going to kiss you. He bypasses your lips and kisses your cheek gently.

“I’d love to take you out on a real date next time, if you’ll let me.”

Your skin tingles from where his lips touched your cheek, and you resist the urge to touch it.

“That can be arranged,” you smile.

“Good. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Have a good night, Jensen.”

He goes to bed that night with a smile because it’s the first time since switching into this new life that he’s finally okay with it. The sun isn’t even up when Jensen wakes up in the morning, mostly because of the black out curtains that you insisted on putting up when you moved in with him.

Wait.

Jensen shoots up in bed and looks next to him to see you sleeping there with soft snores coming out. Right there on the nightstand is the seashell he found for you. Inside are your rings. The walls are decorated with your trinkets he loves, and he can see the cluttered mess in the bathroom.

He’s back.

Did he dream it all? Was it real? Whatever it was, opened his eyes. Jensen is about to lay back down when he remembered the fight you two had before going to bed. He finally knows what he needs to do. He gets out of bed carefully so as to not wake you, and he walks to the kitchen where his laptop is. He opens iMessage that’s connected to his phone and makes a new message to his agent that scored him the role for The Boys.

Jensen: After some thought, I can’t take the role. I need to focus on my family before I take on new work. Thank you for thinking of me. If the role is still available down the line, I’d be more than happy to take it then.

The next thing he does is go online and browse through the two saved websites he bookmarked a few weeks ago. He wanted to surprise you with a vacation for your one year anniversary, but that’s also when his agent told him about The Boys. You’ve been wanting to go to Hawaii, and he books the perfect package that he knows you’ll love.

When he’s done, he walks back to the bedroom and carefully climbs into bed. He leans over you and presses kisses to your exposed shoulder. You moan tiredly and shift before opening your eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

“What are you doing up this early?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was a jerk. You deserve better.”

You sit up and turn the lamp on so that it emits a soft glow in the room.

“I was a jerk, too.”

“I turned down The Boys role.”

“Why?” you gasp.

Jensen leans in and kisses you. “You are my wife. There’ll be other roles. Not another you. I also booked a two-week vacation in Hawaii. We leave tomorrow.”

“What?” You grin widely. “Really?”

“Yes. I love you. I am in love with you. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

You jump into his arms and he falls back with a laugh at your eagerness.

“I love you,” you grin and kiss him.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles angst #jensen ackles fiction #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

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shadowkoo · 3 months ago

Text

Just Dance It Off

→ Summary: You're over the moon when you land the female lead in the end-of-semester show. It feels like your hard work has finally paid off, everything is going great. Well, until you learn who your partner is…

↠ jimin x f.reader | 9.5k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, angst, fluff, ballet dancers au, enemies to lovers, performing arts college au

→ Warnings: explicit and unprotected sex, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, use of fake ID, mild exhibitionism, creampie, hair pulling, angry sex, nipple play, degradation, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, heavy teasing & banter, edging, orgasm denial, light choking

→ Author Note: This is a rewrite of an old 2019 fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! Also a biiiiiiig thank you so Sarah @caelesjjk for beta editing this for me. Go show her some love if you aren't already following her! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“Oh, no,” you hear one of the dancers behind you whisper to another, “Look who’s walking in.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you casually stretch, your eyes betraying you by glancing over your shoulder toward the door, dying to see who they’re talking about. You recognize him almost immediately and the whispers continue to grow about the slender male who is walking across the room to set his stuff down.

Park Jimin.

Of course, he would be auditioning for this show. It’s his final semester, and you really should have seen this coming. Especially since you knew he was bound to get whatever position he was auditioning for. That’s a given.

Park Jimin always gets whatever he wants in life; whether that be a specific role in a performance, who his performance partners are both on the stage…and in the bedroom, that sort of thing. He’s the most pretentious person you’ve ever met, seeing as he acts like he is God’s gift to the dance world, and you’re already dreading any interaction you’ll have with him.

Rumor has it that his daddy, former dancer and sponsor, paid his way into Juilliard, but as much as you hate to admit it, he (unfortunately) happens to be very talented and you doubt the school didn’t already have something lined up for him, regardless of who his family is. Unlike you, who was on the waitlist for two months and had to take out a loan worth more than your life to attend this school.

Your eyes meet his and Jimin does a once-over before moving onto the people to your left. What a prick.

“Y/N!” a voice yells from the entryway. Your familiar, freckled, redheaded best friend is quickly prancing towards you.

“I’m so happy to see you here,” Catalina squeals before hugging you tightly. “What part are you auditioning for? Please tell me it’s lead. God, I miss you. It sucks that we don’t have any classes together this semester. How are you?”

You hug your petite friend back, “I miss you too! Please tell me that you’re not also auditioning for lead, I don’t want to be judged against you. Your pirouettes are perfect compared to my lousy ones.”

Her laugh echoes through the room. “Apparently you didn’t hear about my recent tumble,” she jokes, bumping her shoulder into yours. “I’ll gladly be in the background after my solo-gone-wrong.”

“Alright, everyone!” One of the male judges calls out, walking past the lineup of dancers to collect everyone’s entry form. “We’ll start with the routine you were required to memorize as a group, and then it will be individual evaluations after. Make sure your numbers are secured and let’s line up outside the door.”

After taking your place and getting into position with the rest of the packed room, you wait for the cue to begin. The routine is short and simple, and years of practice have made some of the required moves second nature.

Before you know it, the judges are escorting people out the door for the individual sessions.

You're about twentieth in line, right behind Cat. That makes you a bit nervous because, even though she’s not auditioning for the lead role, her impressive skills might land her a more prominent part than the one she’s aiming for.

Everyone else is quietly chatting in line while you do your best to relax, working through your routine in your mind. This is one of your pre-audition rituals. It always helps with easing your nerves.

By the time you finish running through a couple of full-outs in your head, you’re second in line. You wish Cat good luck as she’s ushered into the dance studio. Her five minutes go by almost too quickly, but she exits with a happy smile.

“Hey, good luck! Kill it, okay?”

You nod, quickly following after the woman who calls your name next.

“Miss Y/N, it says here that you’re auditioning for the female lead. As a sophomore?” Mr. Jenson, one of your dance professors and judge, questions. You prepared for this. It’s very uncommon for an underclassman to try out for such a prestigious role.

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.” You hold your head high.

“Well, I have to say I’m quite impressed with your confidence. Whenever you’re ready.”

You wait for the familiar beginning notes of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz Of The Flowers to play before flying effortlessly through your well-practiced routine. You’re banking on the emotional state of your dancing along with the technical moves you’ve included to impress the judges, and based on their faces when you finish, you figure you did just that. You can’t help but grin widely as you watch the four of them scribble furiously onto the sheets of paper. That’s a really good sign.

“I have to say, I was a little thrown off in the beginning by your song choice since it’s so, hmm, how do I say this, so amateur. But I was very surprised by what you chose to express and the level at which you dance,” the first judge says.

“Yes, the lines you created with your body were very exquisite,” another praises.

You nodded, taking in their advice and criticism.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, you may exit.” Mr. Jenson says with a smile.

As soon as you step out the door and exhale, you feel a sense of relief. The excitement of your successful audition courses through you, filling you with good energy.

You find Cat stretching in the warm-up room next door.

“Oh my god, you got it. Didn’t you?” She squeals the second she sees your face.

“I don’t know…” You have a pretty good idea based on their responses and comments but aren’t positive.

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, “That’s your ’I just nailed my audition’ face. You totally got it.”

“I hope so. God, wouldn’t that be so insane? When was the last time an underclassman got the lead?”

Someone behind you scoffs; you look over your shoulder and see that it’s Jimin. Your eyes narrow at him, but Cat turns you back before you go off on him. “Not worth it, the rest of us seniors think it’s great that you’re trying for a top spot. How about we go get a drink from the vending machine while we wait?”

You nod before grabbing your warm-up bag and follow her out. “I can’t believe him. He’s so stuck up,” You grumble once you’re far enough away that no one but Cat can hear you.

“He’s always like that, just be thankful that you don’t share any classes with him.”

You’ve heard that Jimin is usually the center of attention in class, whether it’s his choice or not, so you can’t imagine being stuck in one with him. It sounds like it would be impossible to get good feedback if the teachers only care about him.

After you both buy the drinks that you want, you head back. The line is smaller but it will still be at least a half-hour until everyone has had their turn. You sigh impatiently and head back into the warm-up room.

Deciding to sit along the mirrored wall, you rummage through your bag to find a pair of headphones and put your favorite playlist on shuffle while you wait. Even though it feels like half the day goes by while you’re sitting there waiting, it’s really only been about an hour.

Everyone’s attention lands on Madam Jamie, one of the contemporary dance professors, when she asks everyone to re-enter the audition room.

“Okay,” she starts once everyone gets in line, “Those whose numbers I am about to call, please step forward. Dancers eleven, one fifty-three, one forty-seven, seventeen, thirty-eight, twenty-two, and one ten.”

Cat gives you a concerned look as she steps forward without you.

“Seventy-two, fifteen, sixty-eight, thirty, thirty-four, eighty-two, one twenty-one–” you step forward and sigh in relief once she spoke your number. Tuning out the rest of the numbers called, you smile at Cat as she reaches for your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Everyone else, I’m sorry to inform you that you have not been selected. Thank you for your time,” She finishes, resting her clipboard against her chest.

Those who didn’t make the cut are escorted out as Mr. Jenson stands up to make an announcement.

“I have everyone’s part listed here,” He shakes the paper in his hand. “It’ll be left on this table for you all to look over. However, I want to first congratulate you all. We are excited to have this much talent for the semester’s exhibition show. We have some great things planned and cannot wait to get started with you all. Please take note of our rehearsal schedule. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Eight to noon. Most of you should not have conflicting schedules as all dance classes are held in the afternoon anyway, although if you do have a problem just stay after and we can work it out. Madam Jamie and I will see you back here Monday morning. Dismissed.”

You and Cat both wait until more people clear out of the room before you have the guts to read the paper.

Catalina Wilde - Corps de ballet

Your eyes wander across the page as you search for your name.

Y/N - Lead Female Soloist

Turning towards each other, you squeal “Oh my god,” at the same time.

“I can’t believe it. We both got what we wanted,” you excitedly rush out.

“I know, this never happens. Oh, I’m so excited!” She reaches for your hand and squeezes it again, picking up the paper with her other hand.

“Oh, no.” She turns the paper towards you, “Look who your partner is.”

Park Jimin - Lead Male Soloist

You huff, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You turn your head and search the mostly-empty room for him. You have a feeling he’s still here, it’s like you can sense his presence.

“Cat! You coming?” the group of dancers near the door asks.

“Shoot, I’ve got to head to my next session. I’ll see you later, okay?” Cat says, giving you a quick hug as she runs out the door.

Leaving just you and Jimin.

Deciding to let go of your prejudice against Jimin, you figure the best move would be to congratulate him on getting the part he auditioned for.

He watches blankly from the mirrored wall as you walk towards him.

Once in front of him, you stick your hand out. “Hey congrats, I’m looking forward to–” you begin before he rudely cuts you off by holding up his hand.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sneers, “We need to take this extremely seriously so I expect you to be at our rehearsals an hour early so we can get in extra time,” he looks you over again, “From what I can tell you’re gonna need it.”

“Also,” apparently he isn’t finished, “I expect that you’ll be taking care of your diet from here on out since I’m going to be lifting you and I don’t want my arms to give out, or worse, snap.”

“Well, you can always go to the gym and work on that yourself,” you say defensively. What a jerk.

“So can you, sweetheart.”

“Uh, wow. Okay…” Here you are trying to congratulate him and here he is treating you like dirt. “Guess the rumors are true,” you mutter as you shift your duffel strap further up your shoulder, turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” Well, shit. He wasn’t supposed to hear that part. You look him in the eyes without showing any regret for your previous statement.

His eyes narrow at you, clearly not liking your RBF, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” However, you aren’t.

“You know,” he remarks, “I don’t care about what you’ve heard about me or what you think about me. I care if you’re going to be too immature for this role and if that’s the case I’ll have no trouble replacing you.” He follows you out the audition room.

Oh boy, you’re pissed now. You turn around and get right in his face.

“What the fuck? In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t in charge here. Just because you’re a senior and I’m a sophomore doesn’t make you any better than me,” you bark while shoving a finger in his chest.

“Secondly, I don’t need to believe the rumors because you’ve just proven them to be true. You’re an ass to all of your partners to the point that they don’t want to dance with you so you can,” you lift up your hands to finger quote this next part, “Pick who you think is good enough.”

You scoff, “Well, here’s a fun fact dickwad. I’m not going anywhere. The judges chose me and I fully intend on dancing as the female lead in the show. So get the fuck over yourself ‘cause you’re about to be seeing a lot of me in these next few months. Got it?“

"Fine,” he huffs, pushing past you.

“Fine!” you snap, turning away from him and heading towards your next class. Now that you're thoroughly annoyed and not in the mood for your next class, which happens to be a two-hour lecture on the history of interpretive dance, you sigh and get moving before you’re late.

The first two weeks of ‘rehearsals’ are spent training, just at a higher level than you’re used to. However, you hide it well. You’ve been making sure to keep up with the upperclassmen because you know that you are, unfortunately, replaceable if Madam Jamie or Mr. Jenson deems it necessary.

It doesn’t matter that your thighs feel like they are on fire, or that your calves might be ripping at every bend and arch you make. You’re going to complete the one hundred pliés just like everyone else without a single complaint.

Jimin must have taken your last conversation to heart, or he’s exceptionally good at masking his feelings if your words bothered him, because he’s been an excellent partner all week. Although, you know you aren’t going to grow a typical relationship with him as you did with all of the other partners you have had over the years. You’ve been friends, good friends, even, with your previous partners, something you know is never going to happen with Jimin.

He doesn’t do small talk. He really doesn’t have much to say at all other than pointing out when you are making a mistake. No good comments, nor praise–not that you’re expecting any–but it would have been nice to hear him say that he is impressed with how well you’re keeping up with him.

It’s Friday of the second week, which means that it’s the last day of the training period aka hell week, thankfully. You’re dying to get started on learning the actual program. You aren’t looking forward to Jimin’s request of showing up an hour earlier than everyone else this next week, but even though you hate to admit it, the extra time will end up benefiting you.

Today also happens to be the day the choreographer is coming in. You’ve heard the whispers throughout the school this week, everyone trying to guess who it’s going to be.

And after seeing who Madam Jamie walks into the studio with, you’re so happy to see that they were all wrong.

“O-oh my–ohmygod,” you bumble and did a double-take. It couldn’t be, could it?

The brown curls hung gorgeously on the tall man’s head and you internally drool at how much better looking he is in person. He’s so tan, so fit, so delicious–

“Can you concentrate?” Jimin grumbles in annoyance, pulling you out of your slightly inappropriate thoughts. You’re doing partner stretches, which does require some level of focus, but not enough that you have to look away from the literal Italian God who stood a mere six feet away. “What’s your deal anyway? We’re supposed to be preparing our muscles for the toughest training session yet and you’re over there stuttering like a fool.”

You scoff at him and lower your voice, “Don’t you know who that is?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Does it look like I care?” He mutters, pushing the backside of your thigh towards your torso.

“You can’t be serious,” you exasperate. “That’s Luca Black! You know, one of the most famous choreographers in the dance world right now. I can’t believe you don’t see how big of a deal this is.”

“The only thing I care about right now is making sure your hamstrings are loose so you don’t kick me in the face when we’re dancing.”

Now there’s an idea…

“Alright, everyone! Front and center please,” Mr. Jenson announces as he walks in the door, right on time as usual.

“Dancers, I would like you to meet Mr. Black, your choreographer. I expect you all to treat him with the same level of respect that you give me and Madam Jamie.”

“Oh please,” Mr. Black says, stepping forward, “You can all call me Luca.” His smile hits the heart of every girl in the class, and even a few of the guys. “I am looking forward to working with you all to make this performance one to remember. Can we get into a lineup to start?”

Everyone moves into the typical sequence based on each person’s position of where they belong. Which meant that you and Jimin were dead center with Luca’s eyes right on you.

You swallow slowly when he walks towards the two of you. “You must be Y/N. Mr. Jenson has told me quite a lot about you. I have to say, I am most excited to work with a dancer like you.”

Jimin is perplexed that Luca went straight to you. If anything, he’s the better dancer here and he doesn’t quite understand why a sophomore is getting so much attention. He’s nearly sick to his stomach listening to the nauseating conversation that you two are having.

“It’s an honor to have you working with us Mr. Black,” you say in awe as you shake his hand.

“Luca,” he corrects before lifting your hand to kiss it, “And the pleasure is most definitely all mine.”

“Sorry,” you pant, rushing through the door. “I know I’m a couple of minutes late. I couldn’t find parking. Why is it so freaking busy? It’s barely seven.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Jimin says ignoring your question. You bite your tongue and get straight into your morning stretches.

“What do you want to work on today?” you ask, knowing what he is going to say after you’re warmed up. For the past three weeks, you and Jimin have been dedicating extra time to perfecting scene two's Pas De Deux.

It’s the only section of this scene where you’re both completely alone on stage and Jimin is dead-set on making it nothing less than perfect. He reasons that just because you are the only two people on stage doesn’t mean that the audience’s attention is a given, you need to earn it.

Which is a very on-brand thing for Jimin to say.

“Do you really need to ask?” He snickers with a playful smile plastered to his face.

“Nevermind then,” you banter back, joining him as he finishes stretching.

You’ve surprisingly gotten pretty comfortable with Jimin after spending more time with him. Dancing with him is mostly fun, besides when he calls you out on your mistakes…repeatedly. But even then, you know he tries to mean well. You both have to be the best or the other will end up looking like a fool–which (you assume) neither of you want to happen.

Knowing that you’re almost halfway through the semester is a little terrifying. All the dancers have been making great progress and everything is coming together seamlessly, but you can’t help but feel the nervousness set in.

You take a deep breath and clear your thoughts, getting nervous right now will do you no good. Thankfully, when you start dancing your mind settles and you’re able to concentrate on your performance.

Well, that is, until Jimin drops you during the lift. You might have understood the mistake if he hadn’t done it three times prior.

“Get up.” He holds his hand out for you, pulling you to your feet. “We need to get this number down, you know how important it is.”

“I’m aware of that,” you hiss. “But it would be nice if you weren’t letting me fall every two seconds.” You rub your aching side and stretch to see if that helps ease the pain.

“Just dance it off, you’ll be fine.” Jimin walks over to his stuff along the wall, before bending down to grab his water bottle.

You scowl. “Stop being ridiculous and hold me properly. I don’t have teeth anywhere down there,” you say motioning to the space between your legs. “You can put your hand where it belongs without worry, you know.”

Jimin blushes as soon as he hears your words, he turns away quickly before you notice. Yes, it’s technically his fault that you keep falling. It isn’t intentional, but he can’t help it. Especially when he can feel the warmth of your center from where his hand is resting when he goes in for the lift.

The thought of other parts of him being this close to your heat is driving him crazy and yeah, he may have faltered, which yeah, may have caused you to crash down once…twice. Okay, maybe three times. Or four?

It doesn’t matter. He’s so hyper-focused on why he’s thinking about you like this at all. You’re attractive, he already knew that. But this new-found thought of wanting to take you hard and fast, right here in the studio is something else. It comes from deep within, and he can’t decide if he wants to squash the idea completely or let it lead to something wild.

Jimin shakes his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts just long enough for you to both get through these next ten minutes before the rest of the crew arrives for rehearsal. “Alright, let’s go again.”

You get into position, Jimin falling behind you. You try to hold still but his breath tickles your neck while you wait for the music cue.

The motions are practically natural to you at this point, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself in case you fall again.

You rapidly suck in air when you feel Jimin’s fingers press deep into your inner thigh this time as he lifts you. They are incredibly close, much closer than they were last time.

You won’t ever admit to it, but your mind is overflowing with dirty thoughts of Jimin’s fingers somewhere else. Particularly somewhere that would have you writhing within seconds.

Those thoughts are distracting, and you’re late for your cue to jump down. And somehow instead of jumping, your body twists around in a weird way as your head dives down toward the ground below you. Tensing, you brace for the impact that doesn’t come.

Unexpectedly, Jimin manages to catch you before any damage happens, and he quickly pulls you up, as if you were never upside down to begin with. His arms are wrapped right below your butt, causing your head to be directly above his. How on earth it got there, you have no idea.

But you aren’t questioning it. Adrenaline runs wild through your body, and you cling to him as if your life depends on it. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, scared that you still might fall somehow.

Your faces are only a few inches apart in this position, which allows you to see how soft and smooth Jimin’s lips look. You slowly lick yours as he lowers you down to the ground, keeping the same amount of distance, or lack thereof, between you two. The realization that it would be so easy to kiss him right now has set in and you swear Jimin has the same mad thoughts; especially when he’s gripping your hips this tightly.

What you both don’t realize is that outside of the main doors, the rest of the dancers are watching with wide eyes and shocked faces. If it weren't for the unmistakable red hair you see in the mirror's reflection, who knows what might have happened? You don’t think about it, instead, you pull away and play it off before heading toward your bag to grab a drink.

“Morning everyone! What are we all waiting for?” Luca says from behind the dancers, “Let’s go in and get warmed up.”

He opens the door and sees you and Jimin at opposite ends of the room, each taking big gulps from your water bottles. Interesting…

Cat walks in and sets her stuff down next to Jimin’s and silently watches him. His face is flushed but she can’t tell if it was because of the intense moment you two just shared, or from the strain of the lifting sequence. She was the first to notice the look you two shared before the crowd outside the door, and she has a weird feeling about it.

Last she knew you were still fighting with Jimin during your pre-practices, although she’s very aware of the saying ’there’s a fine line between love and hate’. Cat makes a mental note to ask you about this morning’s situation later.

The first half of practice is weird, to say the least. Jimin is treating you like nothing happened. And while technically nothing happened, something almost did and you don’t know how you felt about the something.

Needless to say, you aren’t on top of your dance game today. It’s hard to concentrate with your head filled with empty-answered questions and even more confusion.

“Okay, everyone,” Luca echoes, stealing every dancer’s attention, “Let’s take five. When we reconvene we’ll do a recap of Scenes One through Three with no breaks. If we can get it down we’ll move onto the beginning of Scene Four today.”

You and Jimin happily turn in opposite directions, grateful for some space.

“Y/N, can you stay back? There’s something I want to go over with you,” Luca calls out, stopping you from heading in the direction of Cat and some of the other girls.

Oh no. That’s never a good sign.

“Don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong,” he says after seeing your smile falter. “I just see a little room for improvement with the last sequence before the song changes in scene three.”

He gestures for you to get into position in front of him, which you do without hesitation.

Luca moves closer to you and rests a hand on your lower back, “Tighten here and stretch.” He shows you how to position your body to make it look more elegant and elongated. “See how much longer you look now?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Hold yourself like this through the rest of the dance. Trust me when I say you’ll notice a difference. So will everyone else.”

A blush creeps up your neck when his hand slides across your hip before he steps away from you, “Thank you for the tip.”

His eyes burn into yours, and you feel the heat growing in your lower stomach. “Anytime, Y/N.” His lips turned into a small smile, which you returned.

Jimin stalks silently as Luca touches you, his anger bubbling deep down inside him. Fuck, he doesn’t exactly want you, but he definitely doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Luca touching you like that or giving you those looks; looks that have disguised intentions with ulterior motives behind them.

He wants to tell Luca where to go and how to get there, but he knows better. Not only would it be unprofessional as hell, but Jimin would probably be screwed out of a lot of future events if he tells one of the best choreographers to fuck off.

He forces himself to look away and takes another deep breath, calming down a little before part two of rehearsals starts.

The second half of rehearsals ends sooner than expected, and Jimin storms off before you even have the chance to talk to him about this morning. You sigh, your eyes trailing his fast exit.

“Y/N! I’m heading to the vending machine for a granola bar, want to come with me?” Cat asks. You’re sure that her question has a hidden agenda too, but you go along with it anyway since you’re starving and need to eat something small before your next class.

“Sure, just give me a second to switch out of my pointe shoes.” You don’t like to wear yours for walking since they’re new and still stiff.

“So,” Catalina begins, watching you put the money into the machine. “What was that this morning? And don’t you dare try to say it was just dancing, because I’ve seen 'just dancing’ with Jimin and that was not at all what I saw earlier.”

You groan internally, not wanting to deal with her interrogation. Cat isn’t the type to judge you if you told her that you would’ve fucked Jimin right then if it wasn’t for the fact that you noticed her (and the rest of the dancers). But you don’t want to admit it to yourself.

Saying it and thinking it are two very different things, and you aren’t sure you can come to terms with saying that you want to fuck Jimin. Hell, you have no idea if you will feel the same way in an hour. So you choose to keep it to yourself for now.

“Did something happen between you two?” she asks bluntly.

“No, nothing happened between us.”

“And is that a good or bad thing?” she questions next.

“Good,” you huff, “I think…”

It’s been another busy few weeks, and things have been going great…until today. To be honest, this is probably the worst dance day you’ve had in years.

“I’m sorry guys, let’s start from the top,” you apologize again for messing up. The scene you’re going over today isn’t complicated by any means, it’s only a transition scene. But your head is elsewhere which, in turn, makes you mess up every couple of seconds.

You're not getting many approving looks from the room. Luca is a little worried, Madam Jamie has pursed lips, and the dancers are severely annoyed with you.

“No, Miss Y/N. Stop before you hurt yourself.” Mr. Jenson lets out a frustrated sigh. “Kyra, would you stand in for Y/N and show her how it’s properly done?”

You’re embarrassed that it’s gotten to this point. What is with you? You’ve done this sequence perfectly with Jimin this past week, hundreds of times at least. Now with the extra dancers on the floor, you seem to be forgetting it all.

Taking soft, shallow breaths is the only thing keeping you from crying in front of everyone. But they wouldn’t notice. All eyes are glued to Kyra, a senior who had also auditioned for the same role as you, as she dances with Jimin.

They dance beautifully, you can’t deny it, even if you want to. You can’t help but wonder if she would’ve been the better choice for the female lead.

“Thank you, Kyra. Everyone back into position now.”

Kyra walks past you and smirks. You know she’s thinking the same thing that you are. She probably also thinks that she’s capable of sweeping in and stealing your position. Like hell if you’re going to let that happen.

Even so, it’s not your decision to make and you know if you keep screwing this up it’s more than likely to happen.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s your deal?” Jimin whispers once he lines up with you again. The last thing you need is for him to make you feel worse for fucking up.

“I don’t know, it’s not a good day for me,” you whisper back as your eyes fill with tears. You’re completely exhausted, defeated, and disappointed.

“Just dance it off, we all get days like this. Follow my lead, okay? I promise I won’t let you mess up again.”

You nod, blinking back your tears. This is a different side of Jimin than you’re used to. He’s caring and knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

After shaking off the earlier mishaps, you get yourself together and push through practice, making sure that the first official run-through of the program is a total success. It makes you feel a hell of a lot better than two hours earlier. You can tell that the rest of the group is just as ecstatic as you and Jimin are.

“That was great, Y/N!” he says, pulling you into a comforting hug. “See, all you needed was a little reassurance.”

You’re slightly sad when he pulls back, the warmth of his body is no longer felt. “Thank you for today. I would’ve completely fallen apart without you.”

“Hey don’t worry about it, make sure you get some rest this weekend. See you Monday!” He smiles softly and waves bye. Who knew Jimin had more to him than what everyone else saw?

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn your head and see Madison, one of the upperclassmen who’s also in the show, walking toward you.

“What are you doing tonight? Some of the girls and I are planning on going out to celebrate our first successful run-through of the show. We’re wondering if you’d like to come?” She leans in a little closer, “We have a fake you can use to get into our favorite club, Wander. We’d love for you to let loose with us.”

Usually, you would turn down any interaction that involves alcohol, especially since you’re underage, but you don’t want to disappoint your potential new friends. Plus it does sound like a lot of fun, and after the practice you just had, you deserve to let loose and relax.

“Yeah, totally! I’d love to come.” Madison smiles and you both trade numbers.

“Okay cool, I’ll text you my address later. We’re gonna get ready at mine before we head out. See you later!” She gives you a quick hug before heading out the door.

You’re secretly excited to hang out with the older girls since you don’t have many other friends in your year. Especially not now with all your free time taken up by rehearsals.

Jimin stands outside the dance studio’s side door, slyly eavesdropping. He makes a mental note to accidentally run into you later. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into him, but he doesn’t want to go without seeing you for two days.

You intrigue him, and after your almost-kiss, Jimin wants to know what your lips feel like for real this time, not just what he has been imagining.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks over the pounding music. You have no idea what to ask for; you obviously don’t drink and ordering something from the bar is a little out of your comfort zone since you don’t know what you’re doing.

Madison catches on and takes over. “Five shots of tequila for our group!” she yells while leaning over the bartop so he can hear her.

Oh boy, you don’t know much but you know enough to feel safe assuming tonight will be wild if you’re starting with shots, of all things.

With about a month left until the show, deciding to let loose with the girls is exactly the kind of break you need. Dancing, drinks, and good friends. Looking around, you’re happy to see that you have all three. It’s all a part of tonight’s plan.

What you don’t plan for, however, is seeing Jimin in the middle of the dance floor with Kyra all over him. After practice today, this is a total slap in the face.

You aren’t sure if the progress you’ve been making with Jimin is just one-sided, or if you had been imagining it this whole time. It feels like you’re both taking two steps forward in the right direction and then something like this will happen, sending you ten steps back.

Your eyes are glued to Kyra’s body as she dances with him, her hips moving at the perfect speed. You can’t help but be jealous of her. Not only is she gorgeous and a great dancer, but she also has a way of demanding everyone’s attention in any room she graces. Although, there’s only one person’s attention you want right now, and from what it looks like, you doubt you’ll be getting his anytime soon.

“Oh my god, is that Luca?” Catalina asks with a surprised tone, pointing towards the opposite end of the bar, “No way, it can’t be.”

“It is,” you laugh nervously before looking away. You’re a little worried that he might remember that you’re under the legal drinking age, only by a year, but still. How embarrassing would it be for him to get you kicked out…

“That’ll be $42,” the bartender drones, pushing the over-spilling shot glasses toward your group and happily taking whichever girls’ fifty-dollar bill in return.

You lift your glass along with the others, “Here’s to letting go and having fun!”

The tequila burns the back of your throat but that doesn’t stop you from hollering, “Let’s go dance!”

You pull Madison and Catalina onto the dance floor, coming to an abrupt stop when your back collides with someone., “Oh my gosh, I am so sor–” You pause and stare at the dark-haired man, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi ladies, I hope you’re not getting into too much trouble tonight,” Luca jokes with a wide smile displayed across his face. He looks gorgeous dressed in all black, the leather jacket tops off his outfit.

“Oh of course not, Mr. Black,” Catalina giggles playfully, “We’re all good girls here.”

He raises his eyebrow which makes each of you giggle, “I’m not so sure about that. Can I buy you all a drink? Or is that a little weird?”

You look around at the girls; they do the same.

“Uh, sure? Madison finally says, breaking up the awkward silence.

Cat and one of her friends entertain Luca’s conversation while they wait at the bar. You slyly peek over your shoulder while dancing, looking for you-know-who. You can’t find him, but you’re happy to see that Kyra has moved on to her next man of the night.

"Hey,” Luca says, walking towards you with an extra drink in hand. “Here you go. Shhh, it’s our little secret,” he says humorously.

You thank him for the drink, nervously swirling the ice with the slim black straw in your cup.

“I’m happy I ran into you,” he begins, “Can I talk to you for a second, alone?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” You nod to Cat, silently saying that you’ll catch up with her later. He smiles and pulls you aside from your friends.

“What’s up?” You ask tensely while Luca grins, running a hand through his hair.

“I just want to tell you how impressed I’ve been with your progress so far, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you at rehearsals.”

Oh my god.

“Really?” You gape.

“Absolutely,” he reaches for your hand, bringing you closer to him before bending down to plant his lips on yours. You freeze as he kisses you gently, entirely unsure of what to do in that situation.

He quickly pulls back after reading your body language, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Luca,” you say curtly, taking a step back, “I appreciate your tips in class and kind comments, but I think we should keep things professional here. You’re the choreographer and I’m a student...”

“Of course, I apologize again. How about I walk you back to your friends and we forget this happened?”

“That would be perfect.” You’re thankful that things don’t seem too awkward, and you only hope things will stay that way when you see each other Monday morning.

Jimin’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms as he clenches his fists. Fucking Luca Black. He was heading your way to say hi, but Luca led you in a different direction than the one your friends are heading to. He should have known better, but he follows behind slowly. And what he sees when he finally turns the corner doesn’t sit right with him.

Luca’s hand on your cheek as the two of you kiss. Jimin isn’t exactly sure who initiated it. And even though it’s eating him alive, he doesn’t want to know because it pains him either way.

He watches as Luca pulls away, and takes note of your stunned face. Jimin wants to believe that was because you didn’t enjoy it. He can’t hear what you’re talking about, and he truly wants to believe that Luca is making you uncomfortable based on your reaction to the kiss. But that hopeful thought is squashed as soon as you smile and take Luca’s hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

Jimin is still trying to process what he just witnessed even though you’re both long gone. He steps out of the shadows and throws his drink at the wall, ignoring the sound of the glass breaking behind him. Grumbling under his breath, Jimin takes the closest exit and slams the club door behind him.

He heads home with the hopes that a cold shower will ease his rage, but the cool water running down his back isn’t doing much for his boiling blood, nor is it getting rid of the image of Luca’s lips on yours. And inevitably, he can’t get you out of his head either which in turn results in him masturbating to those thoughts of you … which is anything but calming.

Jimin closes his eyes and imagines that it’s him kissing you, not Luca, and that he’s the one who has you pushed up against the wall. He can practically hear your soft whimpers, the ones you make when you’re doing partner stretches that always have him close to losing it right there in front of everyone at rehearsals.

But it isn’t him who’s stretching with you. His length quivers in his hand as he speeds up, trying to change his thoughts to you aroused in the club bathroom, his hand sliding underneath your dress and slipping into your panties. Jimin throws his head back at the image of you getting all worked up, but once again, it isn’t him that’s driving you wild. It’s Luca.

After the fifth attempt and still failing to picture himself with you, Jimin gives up. He groans, looking down at his length’s angry red tip that’s aching for release. And there’s only one thing that will give him that. You.

But not an imaginary you. The real you. The real you wanting him just as much as he wants you. He doubts that you ever will, not when you can have Luca instead.

Meaning that Jimin is basically screwed.

Monday is a killer. Jimin has been hateful to you all morning, and you genuinely have no idea why. He seems to be fuming now at the end of rehearsals, compared to the quiet angry vibe he was giving off earlier this morning.

“Hey, great job today Y/n. You’re doing phenomenal. I can’t wait to see this all come to life next week. See you tomorrow!”

“Thanks! Yes, see you tomorrow Luca.” You wave bye while he rushes out of the room, leaving just you and Jimin behind.

Jimin waits until Luca is out of earshot before saying anything. He’s been annoyed all day by your and Luca’s behavior after witnessing the two of you making out in the hallway of Wander.

He’s disgusted, even more so by the afterthoughts of Luca bringing you back to his place and taking advantage of you. Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much this weekend.

“God, you’re such a suck-up,” he criticizes, failing to hold back his evil words. “How special do you think you’re going to feel when the paid help you’re boning doesn’t remember your name the second he moves on to the next school and finds a new student to seduce?”

“Excuse me?”

“You can pretend all you want but I saw you Friday night. With him.”

Oh god…

You shake your head, “Jimin, I can explain–”

“Whatever, waitlist. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He turns around and internally grimaces, upsetting you isn’t what he was going for. He’s pissed and unfortunately, you’re the only person he can take it out on. It’s a dick move to say things like that, especially since you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else.

Jimin knows he should just let it go, but he can’t help it. It’s been eating him alive all day. He’s pissed that you’re acting like a damn fool because of Luca’s attention. Luca’s eyes hadn’t left your body the entire day.

Fucking perv.

Jimin is more pissed that it’s bothering him so much. He shouldn’t care, he doesn’t–or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Jimin’s words stung, and you’re shaking out of pure anger. “What the fuck is your problem? I can handle the normal stick-up-your-ass behavior but it’s on a whole new level today. Chill out, okay? It isn’t what you think. Nothing happened after he kissed me. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but it actually made me, like, super uncomfortable and he apologized directly after. We both agreed it wasn’t professional, so piss off Jimin. And even if I did decide to take it further with Luca, it wouldn’t concern you. So stay out of it.” You’re near him when you finish, with crossed arms and eyes glaring.

It’s unbelievable Jimin would make such a comment; the last thing you need is for him to start telling people what he saw.

You know you would be harshly reprimanded for using a fake ID to get into a club, but also for accepting a drink from someone who is a teacher, and especially for kissing that same teacher.

Jimin is just as heated as you are. So his intuition was right that night. His anger only grows, wanting to punch Luca over and over again for making you uncomfortable like that. How could Luca not tell that you weren’t actually into him, but rather idolized him for his contributions to the dance world? How dare he use that against you to pull a move like that?

“Fine,” he growls in your face, totally furious at the situation, and furious with himself for caring this much about it–about you. You’re driving him crazy, even now when you’re pissed with him. It turns him on how strong and defensive you always are, and fuck, he wants to do something about it.

“Fine,” you snap back, taking another step forward as your eyes subconsciously lower to his parted mouth.

In a matter of milliseconds, your lips collide and your hands are all over each other’s bodies. He lifts you into his arms and slams your back into the mirrors. It’s a miracle that they don’t shatter from his force.

You gasp at the contact and Jimin takes the opportunity to shove his tongue further into your mouth. Your legs lock around his waist while you continue to explore each other’s mouths and bodies ravenously.

Jimin pulls away and tugs your leotard down your arms, freeing your breasts from the tight compression.

“You’re so fucking annoying, do you know that?” He snarls before leaving a line of rough kisses along your neck and down your chest. You whimper at the sensation and run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking loud, do you always have to say so much?” You moan in response.

Jimin is starved for your taste and can’t wait any longer. His hands travel down your side while his lips close over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

You mewl, crashing your head back against the glass from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Jimin abruptly pulls away and brings his face back in front of yours. “What? Do you have something to say?” he asks with fire in his eyes. But with his lips replaced by his fingers, twisting and tugging, you’re helplessly tongue-tied.

He moves one hand lower and another soft moan escapes your lips, his middle finger dancing dangerously above your panties before dipping into your slickened folds.

Jimin knows exactly where and how to touch you, causing your head to spin. He feels himself hardening watching your face contort in pleasure, and nearly coming in his pants when you slowly lick your bottom lip, pulling it in between your teeth and letting out a long moan in the process.

“Mmm, Jimin,” you cry, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Jimin notices this and instantly pulls away. You don’t get to come that easily. Even though it makes him super fucking excited to see what his touch does to you. God, this is so much better than what he imagined.

You whimper at the loss of his touch, “What the fuck?”

“Turn around,” he demands, his eyes flooding with lust and a dash of something dark. He undresses you rather quickly, leaving your tights and leotard wrapped around your legs.

You decide you aren’t going to let him have all the fun, sneaking a hand back behind you. Jimin grits his teeth in pleasure as your hand slips into his pants. His length twitches in anticipation of feeling you wrapped around him. You pull his member out and lead him between your damp folds, moaning deliciously at the contact.

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room and Jimin can’t hold back any longer. He wants to fulfill his fantasy of taking you hard and fast, right here in front of the mirror. Without a warning he slams himself into you, causing you to lose your breath.

Your back is against him as he relentlessly pounds you from behind. The force of his thrusts are hard and you use your hands as leverage against the mirror to avoid being crushed by him, even though it would certainly be worth it.

Jimin brings a hand up around your neck and holds your head straight so he can watch when you come. You’re close and he knows just what to do.

“Say my name,” he demands, using his other hand to pinch your clit. “Look at me and say the name of the man who’s making you come like you never have before.”

“Jimin, oh my-” The waves of pleasure wash over your entire body, every inch of your skin tingles. You pulsate around him, but he’s not done with you yet.

“That’s damn right.” Jimin twists you around again, lifting you against the reflective glass. He keeps his fast pace, with a fistful of your hair held between his tightening fingers.

“You’re such a fucking slut. Look at you losing it over my cock,” he snarls with a clenched jaw, “I’m gonna fuck you like this until the rest of the class comes in.”

Jimin rams into you with twice the amount of force as before. “I’d make that fucking Italian bastard watch as I take you hard and make you feel this good.” He brings his lips up to your ear and whispers, “He could never,” before harshly biting your ear, sending you completely over the edge for a second time.

Jimin watches you unfold, your beauty completely mesmerizes him. Your entire body is on fire from oversensitivity while Jimin’s fingers rub your throbbing nub. You watch, completely hypnotized, as he brings his soaked fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Oh, don’t think we’re anywhere near done yet,” he smirks devilishly, moving his thumb back to your clit and rubbing in crude circles. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation, and you can’t catch your breath. It’s too much.

Jimin hisses when your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight right now.” It isn’t long after those words leave his lips that he’s shuddering inside of you, his release shooting into the depths of your heat.

Your insides coil as you reach the peak of your third and final orgasm. Jimin holds your legs steady as you come hard over his cock, and swallows your moans with his mouth.

He slowly retreats out of you and presses his flushed cheek against yours. You can feel his heartbeat thumping out of control while you both catch your breath.

After a moment, he draws back and lowers you to the ground. You both chuckle at the state of your appearance. “I think I have a towel in my bag, one sec.” He says while tucking himself back into his pants as you readjust your hair, trying to make the whole ’i just had sex’ look a little less obvious.

You’re still breathing heavily when he returns to wipe you clean.

“Mmm,” you hum in total satisfaction, and still a little out of it - if you had to be honest. “I should piss you off more often.”

He gives you a look, “Hurry up and get dressed before anyone sees you.”

You’re the one to smirk this time, “I thought you wanted people to see me?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Hurry up, you’re taking too long,” you whine while Jimin attempts to undo his stage pants as fast as he can.

“I’m trying,” he mutters, silently praying when his zipper finally works, “There we go.”

He lines himself up to you and pushes into your center.

You bite your lip to avoid making any noises as he stretches you out. The two of you are in the small storage closet behind the stage; there’s only about an hour or two until the opening night show starts.

Jimin thought you had to be joking at first when you whispered how badly you needed him after you both were dressed and ready to warm up with the rest of the dancers. But much to his delight, you weren’t kidding.

Hopefully, they won’t notice your absence. Who are you kidding, they probably know that you two are fucking. Plus, it’s kind of obvious when both lead roles go 'missing’ at the same time.

At first, he was torn between following you into the tight space–wanting to be in another tight space–and doing what he normally would call the right thing, which was preparing for tonight. But after seeing the look on your face, Jimin was quick to follow you into the closet.

“Shhh, you need to stay quiet,” Jimin grunts quietly with a hand over your mouth, silencing your moans.

You grip his shoulders as he quickens his pace, bringing you both over the edge.

“Holy fuck,” he quietly whines, the sensation of your inner walls clenching his length is addicting. It isn’t long after your sweet release that he’s quivering. He pulls out, knowing you can’t dance with his release filling you. He shudders one last time, his come shoots out and onto the wooden floor below.

You giggle, “Good thing we’re in a place that can clean that up.” you say referencing his load.

He rolls his eyes at your joke and leans in to give you a quick kiss, “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Yes, typically.”

You flatten out your costume and zip each other up, leaving the closet one at a time. You first of course, since you needed to touch up your makeup now. Leaving Jimin behind to clean up his mess.

About fifteen minutes later you meet Jimin backstage to practice, stretch, and chat along with everyone else. The jitters are bouncing off of everyone and you can’t stand still from excitement, a little nervousness too. But mostly excitement.

“Jimin, are you feeling okay? You look a little stiff and tired if I must say…” Madam Jamie mentions after watching him practice a few scenes.

“Nothing to worry about Madam, had a tiring warm-up is all. Not to worry though, I am more than ready for tonight.”

Madam Jamie reminds him how important rest and lots of water are when practicing hard before moving along to the next student.

“Hmmm, what is it that you usually tell me?” You begin, giving him a coy look, “Oh right. 'Just dance it off.’ That should fix your issue, correct?” You look down at his crotch, and back up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, daring you to go on.

“After our vigorous warmup, I’m sure you do. But we’re going on stage soon. So suck it up, sweetie.”

He can’t wait to make you regret that statement when he teases you later tonight. He had big plans to celebrate. And knowing you, you would love them.

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